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THE ADVENTURES OF 


CYRANO DE BERGERAC 













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THE ADVENTURES OF 


Cyrano de Bergerac 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF LOUIS GALLET 

n 


BY 

HETTIE E. MILLER 



R. F. FENNO & COMPANY : : 9 and ii EAST 
SIXTEENTH STREET : : NEW YORK CITY 


rz3 

,GtI3S' 

A 

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Copyright, 1898 


R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 



486555 
AUG 2 7 T942 


Cyrano de Bergerac. 


Captain Satan, or. The Adventures of Cyrano de 
Bergerac. 


I. 

Towakd the end of October, 1651 a. d., a horse- 
man, at dusk passed through the gates of Chateau 
Fougerolles, and took the road leading to the 
Dordogne. 

He encountered a brisk wind, which lashed his face ; 
this the cavalier heeded little, but sat upon his steed 
as erect as a paladin in a coat of mail. 

At that hour, on that sequestered road, he might 
have been taken for one of those pirates, who live on 
the purses of others. 

However, he had no thought of concealing himself, 
nor of wrongdoing. 

After a ride of an hour the horseman left the road 
for a narrow path, which lay between two hills, and 
which was overgrown with heather and broom. The 
old trees, which skirted it, were so close together, that 
he had difficulty in making his way through the boughs ; 
he walked his horse, made a passage, with the handle 
of his whip, through the branches which met above his 
7 


8 


Captain Satan, or, 

head, and awaking the echoes, he sang in a clear, 
strong voice a ballad then in vogue : 

“ Que c’est une richesse extrême 
D’être sain en la pauvreté ! 

Mais c’est bien la pauvreté même 
De n’avoir argenti ni santé. 

Un petit grenier est mon Louvre, 

Mon manteau, jour et niut, me couvre. 

Ou me donne un drap en trois mois ; 

Pour tous rideaux j’ai la muraille 
Avec une botte de paille 
Dessus un motelas de bois.” 

When the singer emerged from the narrow ravine, 
he found that he was near the river-bank, on the tow- 
ing-path, leading directly to the ferry, on the other 
side of which was Saint-Sernin. 

The moon had risen above Gardannes. 

The traveler by its light could distinguish, several 
paces from him, the figure of a man, standing motion- 
less, in his hands the glistening barrel of a musket. 

The horseman, to all appearances not in the least 
disconcerted by the suspicious apparition, continued 
on his way with unconcern ; on reaching the spot, how- 
ever, where the stranger was posted, the latter stepped 
forward, and barring the way, whined : 

“Aims, if you please, sir, alms, a poor man begs 
humbly for alms.” 

“Ah, sir,” replied the knight in a mocking voice, 
“it seems to me that you are somewhat too well- 
armed for a genuine beggar,” and he struck the barrel 
of the gun with the end of his whip, as he spoke. 

“The roads are so unsafe, dear sir,” returned the 
other in an apologetic tone. 

“ Ha, I should think you had nothing to lose.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 9 

“ On the contrary ! ” 

And half-derisively, half in menace the beggar re- 
peated : “ Alms, dear sir.” 

“ The devil, that sounds just like : Your money or 
your life ! ” 

“ As you like, sir, I am satisfied.” 

With a quick movement he placed the musket 
against the horseman’s breast. 

“ Ah, vou have fine arguments,” scoffed the latter, 
“ but, wait.” 

He flung aside the weapon, leaped from his saddle, 
and seized the bandit by his throat. 

When he felt that the malefactor was half-strangled 
by his powerful pressure, that the musket had fallen 
from his hand, he grasped both of his wrists and 
bestowed upon him a severe, although well-merited 
flogging with his whip. 

The man begged for mercy and fell on his knees. 

“ I might break your head, were I ill-disposed, or I 
might take you to Fougerolles if I had time to do so. 
Still, this time I will let you go. You may thank the 
devil, your patron ! — However, look at me "closely, 
knave, that you may take to your heels in good season 
when you next see me. I have given you excellent 
advice.” 

The kneeling bandit slowly raised to his vanquish- 
er’s face his black eyes which sparkled with hatred, 
as, by the pale light of the moon he examined the 
nobleman’s mocking features, while the latter sought 
to impress upon his memory the rogue’s face, at once 
pitiful and angry. 

“ I shall recognize you, sir,” murmured the man in a 
strange tone. “ Let me go my way.” 


10 


Captain Satan, or, 

Whilst the false beggar slowly rose and rubbed his 
sides, the knight seized the barrel of the musket, 
swung it above his head in a circle several times, and 
then flung it into the Dordogne. 

Thereupon he mounted his steed and galloped 
away, leaving his assailant utterly confounded by the 
unexpected termination of the adventure. Arrived 
at the ferry, he summoned the ferryman, and ten 
minutes later was on the left bank of the river. 

He rose in his stirrups and looked toward Saint- 
Sernin. 

A light glimmered in the tallest house of the village ; 
from its chimney rose a column of reddish smoke, 
which evidently came from the kitchen, the very sight 
of which called a smile of satisfaction to the traveler’s 
lips. 

The house was that of Jacques Longuépée (Long- 
sword). He who bore that martial name, betokening 
military descent, had broken with his ancestors’ pro- 
fession and had become a priest. 

He was the curé of Saint-Sernin. 

Beneath his cassock Jacques Longuépée hid limbs of 
Herculean proportions ; he was as strong and supple as 
a lion, his magnificently shaped head was covered 
with waving locks, his intellectual face was framed by 
a thick beard. He looked proud and manly, but by 
the tones of his melodious voice, by the languid look 
in his handsome eyes, it was not difficult to see that 
he was as simple and gentle as a good child. 

At the time the traveler was crossing the river, the 
curé was standing in the kitchen of the vicarage 
spurring on his housekeeper, who was busy with her 
oven. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 11 

“ Jeanne, it is eight o’clock,” said the curé. “ Jeanne, 
the pike will not be baked ; you will not have it ready 
in time, and Savinien will surely be here in less than 
fifteen minutes.” 

“ Yery well, very well,” muttered the old woman; 
“ patience is not alone a virtue for the humble ; a no- 
bleman must wait too. Moreover,” she continued, 
with a peremptory gesture, “I shall not serve the 
meal until everything is done.” 

With those words, she made the cure an ironical 
obeisance. Jacques, knowing his inferiority, with 
bowed head and measured tread passed out of the 
kitchen and entered the dining-room. 

The table was set. Quite an array of bottles with 
dusty necks stood on the sideboard ; nothing was lack- 
ing but the guest. 

The clock in the tower of the little church at Saint- 
Sernin struck a quarter after eight ; simultaneously 
the knocker on the door of the parsonage announced 
an arrival. 

“ It is he ! ” cried the curé, who rushed to the door, 
which he opened wide, and flung himself into the 
arms of our traveler. 

“ Truly, my dear brother,” exclaimed the latter, suf- 
fering the curé to kiss him on both cheeks, “ your roof 
affords excellent shelter in such inclement weather, 
while your kitchen diffuses the odor of truffles and 
venison, which seems to me a foretaste of paradisaical 

j°y-” 

“ Let us eat supper, my dear Savinien, let us eat sup- 
per,” said the curé, laconically, for he felt sure that 
his guest must be hungry after his long ride. 

He took off his guest’s cloak, spread it out in front 


12 


Captain Satan, or, 

of the fire in the dining-room, and then announced 
their readiness to Jeanne in his loud voice. 

The esquire took a seat opposite the curé, and the 
two men prepared to do honor to the viands cooked 
by Jeanne, exchanging affectionate words as they ate, 
for although they were but foster-brothers, they loved 
each other as if bound by the tie of blood. 

“ Brother,” said the newcomer, plunging his knife 
into a pasty, which was black with Périgord truffles, 
“ brother, I have not come solely to share your ex- 
cellent meal, I have a very weighty matter to confide 
to you.” 

“ I am at your service,” replied the priest. “ When 
I received your letter, I thought at once that some- 
thing was going on. Speak, I am listening.” 

“ At dessert, I will ; first, give me some of that pike, 
I pray you.” 

“That pike, my dear Savinien, is Jeanne’s pride. 
One does not eat such fish ten times in one’s life.” 

“ Zounds ! Is it a fabulous bird ? ” 

“Hot exactly, but a wall-eyed pike out of Fonta 
Lake, sent to me by the Abbé of Bour defiles on pur- 
pose for you.” 

“ Ah, but wall-eyed or not, it is delicious, and those 
mushrooms cooked in white wine give it a flavor, an 
aroma beyond compare ! ” 

Conversing thus gaily they finished their meal, but 
as soon as Jeanne had cleared the table, had placed 
between the two men a tray of polished brass on 
which was a bottle of Armagnac whiskey and two 
tiny glasses, and had withdrawn, Savinien’s face as- 
sumed a serious expression. 

He drank several drops of the old Armagnac 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 13 

whiskey, poured out for him by his brother, rested his 
elbows on the table, and looking keenly into his eyes, 
said: “Would you like to talk of something very 
grave ? ” 


14 


Captain Satan, or, 


II. 

The curé nodded his head in token of assent, and 
his face became as serious as that of his guest. 

“You once vowed, Jacques,” commenced the latter, 
“that you would consider yourself fortunate could 
you devote your entire life to my service.” 

“ I am ready to keep my word, dear friend.” 

The nobleman extended his hand to the priest, who 
pressed it with such a grip, that Savinien could not 
help exclaiming : “ Zounds ! That is a hand from 

which anything entrusted to it could not be easily 
wrested.” With those words he shook his fingers, 
aching from the cure’s Herculean grasp. 

“Have you property to entrust to me?” asked 
Longuépée. 

“Valuable property, which must be guarded and if 
necessary defended, as the fiery dragon in the fairy- 
tale guards and defends the treasures committed to 
his care.” 

Jacques’ eyes sparkled as he pointed to a long 
sword, hanging in a dark corner of the room. 

“ My ancestors’ weapon,” said he, “ I still know how 
to make use of it.” 

“ I believe you ! ” cried the other. “ When we were 
both children, you gave me many a lesson ; you were 
a bold swordsman ! Ah, why did you not become a 
soldier ? ” 

“God called me elsewhere,” said the priest, mod- 
estly, and the light in his eyes, called into life at the 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 15 

remembrance of his ancestors, vanished. “ Continue, 
Savinien.” 

The knight paused for a moment ; finally he said : 

“I would gladly have spared you this dangerous 
task, for it should be undertaken by a soldier rather 
than a priest — but where could I find a soul as honest 
and true as yours, where a heart as valiant and confi- 
dent, capable of undertaking the difficult task, with- 
out inquiring into its mystery. I could only think of 
you, therefore have I come hither.” 

“I am grateful to you for thinking of me, Sa- 
vinien.” 

“Listen! The mission I would entrust to you, I 
took from another, and to him I gave a promise that 
the success of it should be assured. 

“ You know the life I lead, brother, full of danger 
and adventure. How easily any day might a well- 
aimed bullet lay me low, or a blow from a dagger 
repay me for all those I have given.” 

“ May God forgive you them,” murmured the priest, 
indulgently. 

“ Well,” continued Savinien, “were I to die suddenly, 
the sacred legacy, whose guardian I am, would fall 
into the hands of others, who might be indifferent to 
it, or who might perhaps be interested in the posses- 
sion of it. I do not desire this ; no strange hand must 
touch it, and in this you must help me, by consecrating 
your intelligence and your strength to the matter. 
Then what would it matter were I to disappear ? I 
should die peacefully did I know that you were ready 
to replace me.” 

“ Do you want to commit your will into my keeping ? ” 
asked the curé, amazed at his brother’s solemn speech. 


16 


Captain Satan, or, 

The nobleman smiled. 

“ My will ! ” he cried. u Does a man make a will 
if, like the philosopher Bias, he carries all his property 
with him ? ” 

“ What is it, then ? ” 

“I have already told you: it is the wishes of 
another, that I have to execute.” 

Jacques Longuépée looked at his friend in astonish- 
ment. 

The latter understood the mute inquiry. He drew 
from his jerkin a folded parchment, tied with green 
silk cords. These were provided with a broad seal, 
which must have been quite recently stamped, for 
there was an odor of fresh wax about it. The packet 
bore no address, nor did the seal bear any arms, but 
on a ground-work strewn with tiny stars a “ C ” and a 
“ B ” were oddly interwoven. The exterior, however, 
betrayed nothing of the enclosed secret. 

Savinien laid the packet in front of his brother, and 
touching the seal with his finger, he said solemnly : 
“ Jacques, therein is the future of a human being, the 
fate of a family, the solution of an enigma, which 
means life or death.” 

“ Give it to me,” said the priest, firmly. 

He extended his hand and received the valuable 
document. 

“How, my dear Jacques,” — Savinien rose as he 
spoke those words, — “now listen to what I require 
and expect of you : Guard this package until the day 
on which I demand its return to me, or until you have 
positive proof of my death.” 

“ In case of the latter ? ” asked Jacques, with emo- 
tion. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 1Ÿ 

“In that case,” replied Savinien, “break the seal 
and you will find detailed instructions, written by me, 
telling you what to do with another document, like- 
wise in this envelope and closed with a special seal.” 

“ How about the instructions ? ” 

“You will read them carefully, for they will help 
you to redeem my pledged word. You see, my good 
Jacques, as long as God leaves me on this earthly 
sphere, your office as treasure-guarding dragon will be 
simply a sinecure.” 

“ Indeed.” 

“ On the other hand, however,” said the knight, with 
a smile — for his usual gaiety was being gradually re- 
stored — “ on the other hand, you will have a difficult 
task should some blade fell me with his sword.” 

“ Oho, I hope that blade is yet unborn,” returned 
the priest in a cheery voice. 

“ Who knows ? Still I am satisfied, for I have taken 
every precaution.” 

He drained his glass, like one contented with him- 
self. 

“But another word,” implored Jacques. “ In such 
a grave, weighty matter there cannot be instructions 
enough. Supposing some one should come some day 
and say you had sent him to demand of me the docu- 
ment confided to my care, what should I do ? ” 

“ If any one should come, and were it the King or 
even the Pope you would repulse him as an impostor.” 

“ If he should wish to employ force ? ” 

“ Then Mil him,” replied Savinien, resolutely, point- 
ing with an eloquent glance toward the gigantic sword 
hanging on the wall. 

Those words in no way surprised the priest. He 


18 


Captain Satan, or, 

was of the period when the breviary and the musket 
lay side by side on the ecclesiastic’s table. 

Therefore, instead of answering, J acques contented 
himself with again pressing the hand of his brother, 
who knew that he had gained a resolute ally and that 
he could go on his way without misgiving. 

The clock in the belfry of Saint-Sernin struck eleven. 
Savinien took his cloak and prepared to set out. 

“ Would you leave me so soon ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Whither are you going ? ” 

“ Over there.” 

Savinien pointed out of the window in the direc- 
tion of the other bank of the Dordogne, where the 
black mass of Chateau Fougerolles stood out clearly 
against the sky in the moonlight. 

Jacques asked no further questions, undoubtedly he 
knew the reasons which took Savinien back to Chateau 
Fougerolles. 

“ Shall I see you again ? ” was all he added. 

“ Certainly ! ” 

“ When?” 

“ Before leaving for Paris I will come here to press 
you to my heart again.” 

His horse, already saddled, was standing at the door, 
snorting and pawing with impatience. 

“ Eemember your promise,” Savinien whispered in 
his brother’s ear, then he swung himself into his 
saddle and hurriedly set out for Fougerolles. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 19 


III. 

When the curé could no longer hear the sound of 
the horse’s hoofs on the gravel, he returned to his 
room; he carefully locked the sealed parchment he 
had undertaken to guard and defend in an oak press, 
which was built in the wall behind his bed. 

This done, he prayed fervently and besought God 
to protect his friend, his brother in the dangerous 
enterprises he was about to enter upon, and which 
seemed to him so much more terrible because Savinien 
had not revealed to him the mysterious interest which 
was the motive of his actions. 

Meanwhile the horseman was rapidly drawing near 
the end of his journey. At midnight he reached the 
castle-moat. 

Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, no one 
within the castle seemed asleep. 

Lights flitted to and fro in the long corridors, the 
servants whispered softly one to the other in passing, 
while others, grave and sad, formed into groups at the 
entrance to the apartments occupied by the Lord of 
the manor. 

Savinien rode into the large courtyard, threw the 
reins to a groom and hastily ascended the steps. On 
the uppermost of the first flight he met the steward. 

“Well, Caprais, how are matters?” he asked. 

“ Ah ! sir,” sighed the man, “ bad, very bad ! ” 

Savinien heard no more. He cleared two steps at a 
time and entered a room full of people. 


20 


Captain Satan, or, 

In the centre of that room, stretched upon an im- 
mense bed of black oak with draperies of brocaded 
silk, the old Count, Raymond de Lembrat, lord of 
Gardannes and of Fougerolles, lay dying. 

The man’s emaciated face stood out like ivory against 
the whiteness of his pillows ; his arms, crossed upon 
his breast, seemed already dead ; his eyelids were half 
closed over his glassy eyes; only a slight quiver of 
the lips betrayed the presence of the soul in the body 
that had succumbed to age and to disease. 

A chaplain was praying at the foot of the bed. 
Erect, near the bedside stood a young man proud of 
mien and tall of stature. 

He was handsome, but there was something brutal 
about his beauty; his eyes were tearless when they 
rested on the dying man’s face ; when turned toward 
the servants kneeling in the room, their glance was as 
sharp as steel; his lips curved at the corners, his 
brows frequently knit, betrayed the peremptory and 
merciless master ; not one spark of the kindliness not 
yet vanished from the old Count’s features was visible 
on the young man’s face. He was the Count’s son, 
the heir of the vast domains of Gardannes, Fougerolles 
and Lembrat. 

When Savinien appeared, he left his post and ad- 
vanced to meet him. 

“My father has asked for you several times, my 
dear Savinien,” he said, in a low voice. 

“ I was obliged to leave Fougerolles for a few hours,” 
replied Savinien, in the same tone. “ Can the Count 
understand me ? ” 

“I hope so, although the disease has made rapid 
progress since your departure.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 21 

“ Draw nearer him, Boland, and call me by name.” 

Boland de Lembrat leaned toward his father and 
uttered Savinien’s name. At the sound of it, the old 
man’s eyes opened ; with a troubled look he sought 
Savinien and, seeing him, he signed to him to come to 
his bedside. 

Savinien obeyed. The Count took his hand and 
seemed to be collecting his strength in order to speak 
to him. At that moment, he caught Boland’s eyes 
fixed upon him. 

“ Leave us, Boland,” he said, in a cold tone ; “ and 
you also, father, if you please.” 

The last words were addressed to the chaplain. 

Boland bit his lips with anger, while a vivid flush 
suffused cheeks and brow. Nevertheless, he withdrew 
with the chaplain to the other end of the room, leav- 
ing Savinien alone with Baymond de Lembrat. 

“ Listen,” murmured the dying man. 

Savinien bent over the Count. 

What confidential words issued from that withered 
mouth? No one could guess; but, when Savinien 
stood erect, it was easy to see that the Count’s eyes 
were full of tears. He gazed fixedly at his son, and 
Savinien heard him mutter, as if to himself : 

“ He will be the heir of the Lembrats, not Avith stand- 
ing ! ” A tighter pressure of his hand told Savinien 
that his aged friend had still something to tell him. 
The Count essayed to raise his heavy head, and point- 
ing to Boland de Lembrat with a gesture imperceptible 
to those present, he whispered in Savinien’s ear : 

“ Keep watch over him, but — above all, — remember 
the other ! ” 


22 


Captain. Satan, or, 


TV. 

The broad trenches which modern Paris digs 
through its old quarters, have brought to light a vast 
edifice believed by many to have disappeared, whose 
approaches were besieged by throngs, at the time 
when Corneille and a pleiad of poets, forgotten to- 
day, fought for the honor of seeing their works pre- 
sented there : it was the Hôtel de Bourgogne, where 
the actors under the patronage of the King, gave their 
representations, which were attended by the elite of 
the Court of Anne of Austria, then Regent. 

On this especial evening at this rendezvous of the 
elect of Court and city, was being given a representa- 
tion of Agrippine, a tragedy much discussed by 
cavillers, who saw in it grave attacks upon religion 
and the safety of the State. 

The hall of Hôtel de Bourgogne was full ; a belli- 
cose murmur passed through the brilliant and noisy 
throng. Two men, in a corner of the parterre were 
taking a lively part in the literary event of the even- 
ing. One, with remarkable persistence, hissed all the 
incriminating verses. The other contented himself 
with smiling at the good passages and with shrugging 
his shoulders when his neighbor hissed. At the end 
of the third act, the latter probably felt the need of 
expressing his indignation to some one, for, turning to 
the silent listener, he exclaimed : 

“ Is it not contemptible, sir ? ” 

“ Contemptible ! ” repeated the other man, coldly, 
6i why so, if you please ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 23 

“ Because I did not think it could be possible to ex- 
press sentiments so vicious in such wretched rhymes ! ” 
“ To hear you talk, sir, one would think the author 
a culprit ? ” 

“ A heretic, sir ! He deserves excommunication.” 

“ Indeed ? ” 

“ Has he not said outrageous things about our sacred 
religion ? ” 

“Perhaps you misunderstood them. This is what 
he says.” 

And he forthwith proceeded to recite a whole pas- 
sage from the tragedy of Agrippine, to be followed by 
another and still another, becoming more and more 
animated as he recited. 

“ Ah ! sir,” asked his neighbor, in amazement, “ how 
can you remember so many lines ? ” 

“ Do you confess that they are not bad ? ” 

“ I confess it.” 

“ Why then did you hiss them just now ? ” 

“ Look at the crowd !... A number of others 
seem to be of my opinion ! ” 

“Poor men! One ass begins to bray, the others 
follow. . . .” 

“ That is insolence, sir ! ” 

“ Do you think so ? ” 

“ I am sure of it.” 

“ So much the worse for you ! But, sh ! the fourth 
act is commencing; do not let us make any noise.” 

“Very well; we will resume our conversation 
shortly, and in another way.” 

“Is Monsieur from the provinces?” the elocution- 
ist, likewise provoked, inquired of his adversary in a 
tone of raillery. 


24 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ I am the Marquis de Lozerolles.” 

“ A noble family of Poitou ! Pardon me ! Permit 
me to listen to Séjanus.” 

The actors were on the stage. The altercation 
stopped there. It had not, however, caused any scan- 
dal, the two men having exchanged their attacks with 
the most exquisite politeness, as was becoming in men 
well-born. 

At the conclusion of the play, the Marquis’ adver- 
sary beckoned to a young man two or three paces 
from him, who advanced eagerly. 

“ Count,” he said to him, “ will you be my second ? ” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ I am about to fight a duel ! ” 

“ This evening ? ” 

“ This instant ! ” 

“ Another quarrel ! And you were not out of the 
hall ! ” 

“ It was not necessary for me to leave the hall, for 
the gentleman was there ! ” 

The Marquis de Lozerolles, thus pointed out, bowed 
courteously. 

“ What was the cause ? ” 

“ A very simple one. Monsieur thought Agrippine 
detestable, I thought it excellent. Does that reason 
suffice you ? ” 

“ Perfectly.” 

“ Come, sirs,” interposed the Marquis, “ I am in 
haste.” 

Lozerolles asked the assistance of a friend, as his 
antagonist had, and the four men set out for one of 
the unfrequented lanes near Hôtel de Bourgogne, 
Without delay swords were drawn, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 25 

“ Pest ! sir,” cried the Marquis, after fencing vainly 
in order to make his way, “you are a formidable 
gamester.” 

“Am I not? You are playing a provincial game 
now.” 

“ Bah ! they are not one-armed in the provinces,” 
replied the Marquis, returning the raillery with a 
thrust. 

“Mo more are they in Paris,” said the other, parry- 
ing the blow and following it by a thrust so unfore- 
seen that his sword passed through the Marquis’ arm, 
without giving him time to return it. 

The combat was ended. 

“ My compliments,” said the wounded man, as his 
vanquisher calmly sheathed his sword. “ It matters 
not, the lines of Agrippine are no better by it, but I 
would still like to know why you recite them so well.” 

“ Because I am the author of them, sir Marquis ! ” 
And, leaving the Marquis stunned by that revelation, 
the poet, who so bravely defended his work with his 
sword, withdrew, leaning on his second’s arm. 

This poet is no stranger to us. We have seen him 
at the table of the curé of Saint-Sernin and at Count 
de Lembrat’s deathbed. 

He had, it is necessary to say first of all, for it was 
the characteristic feature of that original physiog- 
nomy, he had a nose of surprising dimensions, mark- 
edly curved, shading his mouth, in fact an “heroic 
nose,” according to the expression of one of his biog- 
raphers. That remarkable nose held sway over a face 
of regularity and sweetness, lighted by beautiful black 
eyes, large and full of brilliance. The brows were 
delicately traced ; the rather slight moustache left his 


26 


Captain Satan, or, 

lips free ; his hair fell in brown masses around an in- 
telligent forehead. The whole constituted a handsome 
man, who, in those days of mad pranks, occupied a 
position of honor among the refined and the learned. 

His name was Savinien de Cyrano. He was, how- 
ever, better known by that of Cyrano de Bergerac, 
which he had taken to distinguish himself from his 
brother and his cousins. 

He was the author of the Yoyage à la Lune , En- 
tretiens pointus , the poet of Agrippine , the rhymer of 
a hundred burlesques, the audacious philosopher ; he 
was also the mad duellist, the hero of all quarrels. 
He had twenty, yes, a hundred surnames of honor : 
he was called the Intrepid, the Demon of Bravery, 
Captain Satan ; — among the people especially that 
name clung to him, and many knew him by no other. 
Together with all that, his heart was of gold, his in- 
dependence thoroughly tried, he loved all good, he 
hated blockheads, and he was beloved, for his genius 
accommodated to the taste of the epoch, for his ready 
wit, for his cheery youth; he left behind him the 
memory of lasting friendships and of absolute devo- 
tion, which is very rare. 

****** 

Having saluted the Marquis, Cyrano withdrew, as 
we have said, leaning on his second’s arm. The title 
of Count just given the second by Bergerac, belonged 
to him by virtue of the death of Lembrat, senior ; the 
Boland with the haughty face whom we have already 
seen standing unmoved at his father’s deathbed, was 
the new Lord of Fougerolles. 

Count Eaymond de Lembrat had been dead more 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 27 

than a year, and Boland’s mourning had been brief. 
He was five-and-twenty and rich ; he thirsted for gay 
life in a large city from which his father had carefully 
guarded him. 

Cyrano de Bergerac, older and more experienced, 
was his model, and although he did not feel any very 
great sympathy with the poet, no doubt on account of 
the strong friendship Count Baymond had always 
shown him, he asked him to become his guide and 
mentor in the brilliant world he was about to enter. 

“This was the epoch when the beautiful Spanish 
and Italian adventuresses, proud and voluptuous 
creatures, held their sway, loving with equal ardor, 
gold, blood and perfume : it was the epoch of scaled 
balconies, of ladders of silk, of ballets and masquerades ; 
of that Spanish gallantry, at once serious and mad, 
devoted almost to foolishness, ardent to ferocity ; of 
sonnets and of rhymes, of sword thrusts, of bumpers 
and of unbridled gambling. ” 1 

Such was the whirlpool into which Cyrano launched 
his young friend. 

In that intoxicating world, Savinien lived as a 
poet, a philosopher; Boland rushed into it head- 
long, eager to taste all the savory fruits, to drink of 
all the foaming goblets. In less than a year he had a 
place among the elite. He had squandered money, had 
swelled the number of entertainments, had dazzled the 
women with his splendor, had subdued the men by 
his audacity; he was speedily intoxicated by that 
regimen. 

After intoxication comes lassitude. He felt the 
necessity of controlling his passion, of settling down. 

1 Théophile Gautier : Les Grotesques , 


28 Captain Satan, or, 

In that again Cyrano served him to the purpose. 
Being a friend of the Marquis de Faventines, who 
occupied an old mansion on the island of Saint-Louis, 
and whose establishment was quite modest, a lengthy 
suit having considerably impaired his fortune, Savinien 
had spoken to him of young Count de Lembrat, and 
had finally presented him to him. In that house 
Boland found the refuge he desired.— A maiden, the 
Marquis’ only child, was there. — Her name was Gil- 
berte ; she was nineteen ; Boland fell in love with her, 
and, like a sensible youth, he sought no other con- 
fidant for his love than the Marquis himself. 

Then, as at present, no one married a girl without a 
dowry. The father welcomed that son-in-law as a 
miraculous Godsend, and, in two months, what he 
called Gilberte’s “ happiness ” was determined upon. 

As for the maiden, consulted merely as a matter of 
form, she answered : yes, without any objections, her 
heart being probably free, and her wit sufficiently 
quick to see that it would not be wise to scorn an 
union so advantageous. The matter being launched 
thus favorably, negotiations were speedily made, and 
Count de Lembrat was solemnly received at the house 
as the betrothed of beautiful Gilberte de Faventines. 

In the spring of the year 1653, he enjoyed that en- 
viable position. 

For two months Gilberte had had time to become 
accustomed to the thought of becoming a Countess. 
She awaited that result without desiring it. Indeed, 
she would gladly have taken back her promise, had 
not the unalterable respect inculcated by her parents 
imperiously restrained her. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 29 


Y. 

The Hôtel de Faventines was built at the end of a 
garden whose gate opened on the shore of the Seine. 
It afforded a picturesque view, and Gilberte liked to 
sit on the terrace overlooking the river, to dream, to 
read or to talk with Paquette, her maid and confidante 
as well. One morning, the two young girls were in 
their favorite place, beneath the shade of a plane- 
tree, the branches of which reached as far as the quay. 
They were talking, and their conversation was very 
important no doubt, for their voices were lowered, and 
they were so near each other that Gilberte’s brown 
locks mingled with Pâquette’s fair curls. 

Gilberte’s cheeks were as pink as peach-blossoms in 
April, and the charming color increased as the con- 
versation went on. 

“Has this mystery been of long duration, made- 
moiselle ? ” asked Pâquette, on hearing a lengthy story 
from her mistress’ lips. 

“ Three weeks.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“ Every day, for three weeks I have found a bouquet 
on my balcony, and in the bouquet, verses. . . .” 

“It is easy to give a bouquet daily, but verses! 
Either the unknown gallant has a mind more fertile 
than our fashionable authors, or . . . or, made- 

moiselle, he has a stock of love verses for all cases.” 

“ You are naughty.” 

“ Will you permit me to be curious as well ?” 


30 


Captain Satan, or, 


“Why?” 

“ Because I should like to ask you a question.” 

“ Speak ! ” 

“ Well ! your hand on your heart, in what mood did 
you look upon these verses and bouquets ? ” 

“ I am, I think, somewhat silly, Paquette.” 

“ That is no answer.” 

“ Well. — To be frank I was greatly annoyed at the 
unknown’s audacity.” 

“ Naturally, — but . . . after that ? ” 

“ After that, I became accustomed to it.” 

“ So that now ? . . .” 

“ Now, it seems to me that I cannot be vexed with 
him for his discreet homage, having tolerated it 
thus.” 

“ You do not know him, truly ? ” 

“ I do not know him, I swear.” 

“ Do you suspect no one ? ” 

“No one.” 

“Not even Count de Lembrat, your fiancé? ” 
“Him! You cannot think so! He sees me every 
day; he talks to me with perfect freedom. Why 
should he offer me verses and flowers anonymously ? ” 
“ It is a delicate attention.” 

“No.” 

“ A test, perhaps ? ” 

“ The Count has no more need to win me than to 
try me. He is as sure of my loyalty as of my father’s 
word.” 

“ Then, all this is to lead you to nothing ? ” 

“ To nothing, I have told you ; in a month I shall 
be married. The memory of this strange adventure 
will leave me but one more regret.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 31 

“One more regret? You see, you do not love M. 
de Lembrat; you do not love him, and you allow 
yourself to wed him.” 

“ What would you have me do ? ” 

“ I would have you rebel,” cried Pâquette, with a 
bewitching toss of her head, “ I would have you say 
£ no.’ Truly ! I should not fail to do so ! ” 

“ You, my poor child, are free. You have not to 
save the pride of a family, to protect the nobility of a 
name.” 

“ That is true. However. . . .” 

“ Even were I to say no,” continued Gilberte, sadty, 
“ my father’s will would be stronger than my resist- 
ance. Ah, but you are happy, Paquette ! You can 
love, and that is forbidden me.” 

The sound of voices was heard in the garden. Gil- 
berte rose in confusion. Almost simultaneously the 
Count, upon whose arm leaned the Marchioness de 
Eaventines, appeared. At the sight of him, Gilberte 
could not restrain a slight exclamation. 

“ Did I startle you, Mademoiselle ? ” asked Poland. 

“ You simply surprised me,” replied Gilberte, trying 
to smile. 

Having kissed his fiancee’s hand, Count de Lembrat 
seated himself beside the Marchioness, on a stone 
bench built around the plane-tree. 

At a signal from her mother, Gilberte took a seat 
near her. But, instead of paying attention to what 
was taking place around her, her eyes soon wondered 
into space and she fell into a deep reverie. Roland 
looked at her for a moment keenly. 

“You seem sad, Mademoiselle,” he finally said; 
“ what has happened ? ” 


32 Captain Satan, or, 

“.Nothing, sir,” replied Gilberte; “pray, excuse 
me.” 

“ It is strange ! ” reflected Eoland, in a low tone, 
frowning imperceptibly. 

Having taken that tone of coldness, the conversation 
threatened to cease. The Count, feeling it necessary 
to remove that oppression, did not reply to Gilberte’s 
last words. In retaliation, he drew from his pocket a 
small jewel-box, stamped with the Faventines’ arms, 
and placed it open before the maiden’s eyes. 

“ Mademoiselle,” the Count then ventured to say, “ I 
know that you are interested in works of art ; deign 
to accept this trinket, which I had chased for you by 
a Florentine master-jeweler.” 

Gilberte glanced with polite admiration at the won- 
der offered her. 

“It is very rich, indeed,” she said, with glaring in- 
difference. 

“ How ! ” exclaimed the Marchioness, at that junc- 
ture, “ can you not thank M. de Lembrat better, Gil- 
berte ? ” 

“ Never mind, madame,” interposed Eoland, with a 
shade of bitterness, “ I expect no thanks.” 

“ My mother is right ; I had forgotten where and 
before whom I was ; thank you, sir, your attentions 
touch me deeply.” 

Gilberte uttered those words without extending her 
hand toward her fiancé , nor did a smile light up her 
face. 

“ As cold as marble ! Am I deceived ? ” 

A painful silence followed. Fortunately for the 
three personages in that scene, of which Pâquette 
was a silent witness, the Marquis’ arrival diverted the 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 33 

thoughts which agitated them. The Marquis was not 
alone. Savinien de Cyrano accompanied him. 

The gentleman advanced gallantly toward the ladies, 
whom he saluted very low, sweeping the ground with 
the plume in his hat, as fashion demanded. 

“ Ah, M. de Bergerac,” the Marchioness hastened to 
say, happy to escape from the constraint which pos- 
sessed her, “how pleased I am to see you ! You have 
used us harshly for two weeks, I think ! Were you 
ill ? ” 

“Yes,” said Cyrano, gaily, taking advantage of the 
opportunity for one of those plays on words of which 
he was so fond, “ yes, I was troubled with the tierce 
and the quarte.” 

“Which means,” explained Boland, “that you 
fought ! ” 

“ Oh ! in spite of myself ; my friends are wrong in 
saying that I am the leader of men, for in a week I 
have not ceased being the second of everybody. I 
supported Brisailles’ quarrel, who fought I do not 
know why, and that of Canillac and, on my part, I 
gained two slashes there, which my nose still shows.” 

“ Those are popular quarrels,” said the Marquis. 
“ They say you have more serious ones.” 

“ What are they, if you please, Marquis ? ” 

“Do they not say that you had a quarrel with 
Poquelin, who had cunningly stolen a scene of your 
comedy, the Pédant , in order to adapt it to the farce 
which he calls Les Fourberies de Scajpin f ” 

“ Oh, yes ! I know what you mean.” 

“ You take the matter very calmly, it seems to me.” 

“ Bah ! ” said the poet, shrugging his shoulders, “ if 
Molière steals my works, people know it, and I have 


34 


Captain Satan, or, 

no need for vengeance. Moreover, if he steals my 
thoughts it is a mark of his esteem for me ; he would 
not take them, did he not think them good.” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“ Do you know what offends me ? It is to see that 
he attributes to his imagination the good offices which 
his memory renders him, and calls himself the father 
of certain children of whom he is at the most only the 
midwife.” 

A burst of laughter greeted that speech. The ice 
was broken. Cyrano’s good-humor had brightened 
all faces. 

“ Bergerac, my friend,” said the Marquis, “ you are 
better than your reputation.” 

“ Do not let us speak of my reputation ; if it is bad, 
it is because I have given my enemies the chance to 
make it so. Let us speak rather of your happiness, 
my dear Roland, of your family joys, Sir Marquis ; 
you should have a great deal to tell me.” 

“ Only one thing, but the gladdest of all for me,” 
said Roland : “ Mile. Gilberte will become my wife in 
a month.” 

“ Happy mortal who knows the date of his happi- 
ness in advance ! ” 

Then, observing the embarrassment that Roland’s 
declaration caused Gilberte, he said to himself : “ Aha ! 
the child seems to care but little for the future pre- 
pared for her.” 

Having reflected thus, he was about to go, when 
the Marquis stopped him. 

“ Will you dine with us, M. de Bergerac ? ” 

“ I cannot ; I must fly.” 

“ So quickly ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 35 

“ I am expected at Hôtel de Bourgogne.” 

“ A pretext, I’ll wager ! ” 

“ The pretext is of flesh and bone ; it is Sulpice 
Castilian, the excellent youth who copies my verses 
and carries my challenges.” 

“ Well, he will wait for you, that is all.” 

“Yes, remain,” interposed Gilberte ; “after dinner 
you must recite us some passages from your latest 
work.” 

“ If you command,” chivalrously replied the poet, 
“I no longer have an atom of will. I will stay. 
Would you like, ladies, while awaiting dinner, to take 
a stroll to the Pont-Neuf ? They say that Brioché is 
giving a farce there in which I am maliciously put on 
the stage, to the great delight of the loungers.” 

Cyrano was about to continue the enumeration of 
the attractions which the Pont-lSTeuf would offer that 
day, when his attention was attracted by music very 
bizarre in character, which came from the quay. 

The virtuosi were two men and a woman, all three 
young, all three wearing picturesque costumes of bril- 
liant colors. 

Leaning upon the terrace-rail, Savinien scrutinized 
them with an artist’s curiosity. The group was in- 
deed striking. 

The woman looked very beautiful in her multi-col- 
ored garments; the two men stationed themselves 
boldly before her and carried their tinsel superbly. 

Forgetting both Brioché and the Pont-Neuf alto- 
gether, as well as the farce in which he was satirized, 
Cyrano turned toward the Marquis, crying : 

“ Zounds, M. de Faventines, why do you not admit 
those strolling musicians, who are caterwauling on 


36 Captain Satan, or, 

the quay? They present a fine appearance, and 
would like to come nearer, I fancy.” 

“ Surely,” agreed the Marquis. “Would you like 
them, Gilberte ? ” 

“As you wish, papa. Call them, M. de Cyrano.” 

“ Ho, there ! ” cried the poet, “ come hither and 
enter ! We desire to judge of your merit.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 37 


VI. 

Paquette opened the gate leading to the quay ; 
the three musicians entered and stood before their 
noble audience. 

On perceiving Cyrano, one of the two men made a 
hastily suppressed movement, and arranged his thick 
black curls over his eyes. 

Had the poet observed that movement and had he 
sought the cause of it, he would not have failed to 
recognize in the strolling virtuoso, the beggar who 
had not long since stopped him on the road to 
Fougerolles. But, besides having probably forgotten 
the adventure, Cyrano was busily engaged for the 
moment in examining the features of the other Bo- 
hemian. He was quite young ; he had fair hair, a tall, 
slender form, and on his face, somewhat tanned by 
the sun of all lands, was visible an expression of 
melancholy pride. 

Of what was Cyrano thinking as he gazed at him ? 
He would undoubtedly have had difficulty in saying 
himself, for he soon shook his head as if to dispel un- 
grounded preoccupation, and advancing toward the 
one who seemed to be the leader of the troop, he said : 

“ Begin your music, if you can do nothing better to 
entertain these noble personages.” 

The highwayman took a step forward, and dis- 
guising his voice as well as possible, for he remembered 
the threat made by Cyrano, as well as the lesson re- 
ceived, he said : 


38 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Every one does not like music, sir. "VVe have 
something else to offer you.” 

“What?” 

“ I am a juggler ; my sister, Zilla, tells fortunes, and 
my partner, Manuel, is an extemporizer of merit, as 
well as a fine lute-player.” 

“We are now embarrassed as to choice,” scoffed 
Cyrano. And turning to the youth designated as 
Manuel, he asked : 

“ Are you a poet, my boy ? ” 

“ Sometimes, my lord.” 

“ Then we are brothers. By Apollo, I salute you.” 

The young man bowed. 

“ Thank you, M. de Cyrano,” he replied, courteously. 

“You know me ?” 

“ As does all Paris.” 

“It is singular,” thought Cyrano at that moment ; 
“those features are familiar to me, I seem to have 
heard that voice.” 

Thoughtfully he examined his interlocutor’s whole 
person. 

“ What is the matter, dear friend ? ” asked Roland, 
surprised at the expression of Savinien’s face. 

The poet was himself again. 

“Nothing,” he answered. “I am examining my 
confrere. A poet is always a curious animal to look 
at.” 

A pause ensued during which, at this meeting of 
personages so diverse, there was a strange interchange 
of glances. 

Cyrano continued his scrutiny of Manuel ; Manuel 
gazed passionately at Gilberte, possessed in her pres- 
ence by an indefinable emotion. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 39 

Zilla watched Manuel with eyes full of lightning ; 
Boland looked from one to the other, seeking the 
meaning of the strange scene. 

As for the man with the black hair, he looked at no 
one, his only care was that no one should look at him. 
Cyrano’s presence embarrassed him greatly. 

The poet approached Gilberte. 

“Come, lovely maid so full of care, Zilla will 
cast your horoscope,” he proposed. “ Do you wish 
it?” 

“ Why not ? ” 

So Gilberte joined the group. The fortune-teller 
took her hand. 

“ Read it without fear,” said Gilberte, emphatically. 
“ I am not afraid to hear my destiny. What do you 
see ? ” 

“ Love in the shadow ; surprise and deception ; a ter- 
rible struggle ; after the struggle, possibly happiness, 
possibly death.” 

The young girl withdrew her hand. 

“ Thank you,” said she, simply. 

“As obscure as an ancient oracle,” remarked 
Cyrano, in a tone of raillery. “ Now, mine, my beau- 
tiful sybil.” 

“ You, my lord,” said Zilla, “ will have a short but 
fruitful life, persecution and combats.” 

“ That is what I like. You speak well, my girl ! 
And the end ? ” 

“ I cannot say how you will die.” 

“By a sword-thrust, doubtless? That fate would 
suit me well.” 

“ No,” said Zilla, having again consulted the lines in 
the gentleman’s hand. 


40 Captain Satan, or, 

“ I accept the augury. Now, it is your turn, Ro- 
land.” 

“ It is useless,” objected the Count ; “ I do not be- 
lieve in predictions.” 

“Nor I, indeed; but these poor devils must earn 
their money.” 

“ Yery well, then.” 

And, in his turn, Roland submitted to the sooth- 
sayer’s examination. 

“ You were right to hesitate,” said she, in a deep, 
grave voice, “ your hand is a strange book.” 

“Indeed!” 

“ All is obscure and mysterious in these lines. Allow 
me to reflect a little my lord.” 

“ Are there then terrible things written there ? ” 

“ Possibly ! ” 

With bowed head, with fixed eye, Zilla seemed to 
isolate herself in solemn contemplation. 

While all those present -were watching the scene, a 
young man modestly dressed, with sprightly step and 
roguish face, quietly joined the company. 

It was Sulpice Castilian, Cyrano’s scribe, who, not 
having found his master at Hôtel de Bourgogne, had 
come to look for him at Hôtel de Faventines. 

Cyrano made a sign to him which meant : 

“ Do not speak, but wait, I have need of you.” 

Roland de Lembrat commenced to grow impatient 
at the slowness of his oracle. 

“ Speak,” he said to Zilla. “ You see we are await- 
ing your decree.” 

But Zilla shook her head, and pushed away the 
Count’s hand : 

“ No,” she murmured, “ I cannot tell you that.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 41 

“ Mysterious ? That is adroit.” 

The seeress turned her keen eyes upon the mocking 
ones of the skeptic, and in a penetrating voice she 
corrected : 

“ It is wise . . . for your peace of mind.” 

The Count shrugged his shoulders, and turning 
away, said : 

“ Enough of juggling ; let us sing some love-song ; I 
like that better.” 

The chief of the trio interfered. 

“ That is Manuel’s business.” 

Then to his companion : 

“ Collect yourself, my friend, and sing one of your 
improvisations for these lovely ladies.” 

In spite of those words, the singer’s embarrassment 
was evident. First of all, he looked at Gilberte with 
an air almost wild, and bowed his head as if crushed 
beneath the weight of an overwhelming thought. 
Then, a gleam of energy sparkled in his eyes; he 
raised his head, possessed by an audacious inspiration, 
and flinging back his fair hair, he advanced toward 
Mlle, de Faventines. 

Gilberte leaned her head on Paquette’s shoulder. 

“ That man’s glance disturbs me in spite of myself,” 
she murmured in her pretty maid’s ear. 

“ He has a bold and haughty air,” replied the latter, 
in a low voice. 

Cyrano had assumed a pensive air in the presence 
of the extemporizer, who absorbed the general atten- 
tion. 

Manuel played a soft prelude, then in a voice, 
sweetly vibrating, somewhat unsteady at first, but 


42 


Captain Satan, or, 

growing firmer as the poetic movement inspired him, 
he hummed these verses : 


“Parce que je ne suis qu’un enfant de Bohême, 

Élevé dans la bauge et ne dans le ruisseau ; 

Parce que je vis loin de la femme que j’aime, 

Que je rampe à ses pieds comme le ver misseau ; 

Parce qu’elle n’a pas de sou sourire auguste 
Éclaire cette nuit où fleurit mon amour, 

Dois-je étouffer mon cœur, et trouve-t-elle injuste 
Que je veuille étaler ma blessure au grand jour ? ” 

“ My God ! ” murmured Gilberte, trembling. 

Manuel continued : 

“Elle passera calme et fiére sur ma route; 

Jamais ses yeux charmants ne chercheront mes yeux; 

Et je n’eveilliraê pas même un chaste doute 
Dans cet esprit plus pur que la clarté des cieux. 

Le paradis du pauvre est fait de chose : 

Volontiers, je mourrai de mon humble bonheur, 

Si je puis, confiant mes baisers à la rose, 

Voir sa lèvre aspirer mon âme avec la fleur.” 

Either accidentally or with premeditation, the ex- 
temporizer had stationed himself near a large stone 
vase around which were entwined the graceful branches 
of a white rosebush. On concluding those lines in a 
melodious sigh, he put out his hand, gathered a rose, 
pressed it furtively to his lips, and, bending his knee 
before Gilberte, he presented it to her with closed 
eyes, as if he were about to faint with emotion. 

With sparkling eyes, with curled lips, Eoland 
rushed toward him. 

“ Insolent fellow ! ” he exclaimed. 

And he rudely snatched the flower from the ad- 
venturer’s hand to crush it beneath his heel. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 43 

Manuel was enraged at the insult ; but beneath the 
Count’s contemptuous glance, his brow, flushed with 
anger, suddenly clouded over. He drew back. He 
saw and confessed his impotence. 

All that was as quick as thought. 

“ What are you doing, Boland,” interposed Cyrano 
in a calm voice, “ what are you taking offense at ? It 
is this man’s rôle : he recites verses, he offers a flower ; 
it is perfectly innocent.” 

“ Hid you not see his glance ? Hid you not under- 
stand that insulting allusion ? ” 

“ Child that you are,” — Savinien took the Count’s 
hand, — “ are you jealous of a Bohemian ? ” 

“ Leave me alone.” 

And pointing out to Manuel the garden gate, he 
said : 

“ Go, knave, if you do not wish me to chase you out 
with a stick.” 

“ Pardon,” replied Manuel, in a cold tone and with- 
out retreating a step ; “ if you were to strike me with 
a stick, I would be man enough to return your blows 
with sword-thrusts.” 

A burst of scornful laughter escaped Roland’s lips. 

“ A beggar ! ” he cried ; “ go ! ” 

“Count,” exclaimed Gilberte, casting herself be- 
tween the two adversaries. 

Boland seized her hand : 

“ Fear not, mademoiselle ; if I am jealous of all who 
come in contact with you, I also know how to pay for 
the diversion obtained for you. There, knave.” 

He flung his purse to Manuel. 

“ Thanks,” replied the young man, rejecting it with 
his foot ; “ I have been paid.” 


44 


Captain Satan, or, 

Zilla’s brother, less disdainful, quickly picked it up, 
bowed ceremoniously, and said : 

“ I do not work for pleasure, my lord ; I accept it.” 

Manuel retired slowly, not like a man who is chased, 
but like a combatant proudly leaving the arena. His 
two companions followed him. 

Whilst Poland watched their withdrawal with a 
moody air, Paquette heard her mistress say sadly : 

“ Oh, my dear, he is a Bohemian. Everything for- 
bids me to love now ; my dream is ended.” 

“ Go,” Cyrano bade Sulpice Castilian at the same 
time, “follow those people who have just been sent 
away ; I must know where to find them.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 45 


YII. 

On leaving Hôtel de Faventines, the three itinerant 
musicians turned toward the Pont-Neuf, which was at 
that time the quarter frequented by jugglers, lackeys, 
sharpers and pickpockets. Zilla walked on in advance, 
with bowed head, full of thought. Manuel, on the 
contrary, looked up at the sky; his breast heaved, 
swelled by a breath of triumphant pride. He loved ! 
He, the obscure, the humble, he had had the supreme 
good fortune to be able to rise in a moment of 
audacious inspiration to the level of the woman he 
adored. For one moment she had felt his eyes fixed 
passionately on hers, for one moment she had been his 
entirely. They had insulted, threatened, driven him 
out ! What mattered it to him ? The Bohemian, the 
forlorn child, who had no ties, who had no origin, had 
made the heart of a patrician beat, if not with love, at 
least with pity. 

That sufficed him, as he had said in his feverish im- 
provisation. He was happy; being unable to claim 
more, his artistic and visionary soul placed all its 
future joy in a memory ; he knew that henceforth he 
would occupy a place in Gilberte’s mind. 

That thought was his treasure, the price of his bold- 
ness, his consolation in his misery. And like a mad- 
man, seeking in space the phantom of his dream, he 
walked along without looking around him, elbowing 
the passers-by, stumbling against stones, running into 
mile-posts, dazed, intoxicated, blinded ! 


46 


Captain Satan, or, 

His companion brought him back to stern reality. 

“ Ah, Manuel,” he cried, in a mocking tone, “ have 
you lost your senses and your voice ? ” 

“ Why that question, Ben- Joël ? ” 

“Why?” repeated Ben-Joël, “because I have 
spoken to you three times, without receiving the 
honor of a reply.” 

“ Excuse me, and be kind enough to repeat what 
you said.” 

“ I simply asked you if. . . .” 

“ If ? ” 

“ But no ! that does not concern me after all.” 

“ Speak, I pray you.” 

“ I asked you for the explanation of the scene just 
enacted.” 

“ What scene ? ” 

“ That gallant improvisation addressed to the young 
girl.” 

“ I fancy you have guessed all ? ” 

“ Do you really love her ? ” asked Ben- Joël, greatly 
astonished. 

“Yes,” replied Manuel, in a penetrating voice. 

“ Bah ! What will it lead to ? ” 

“ To nothing ! ” 

“ Strange boy ! ” murmured the Bohemian. “ Then, 
you made that mad declaration, as others fight, merely 
for pleasure ? ” 

“ Precisely.” 

“And Zilla ? ” 

“What! Zilla?” 

“ Did you not see that she was being tortured ? ” 

At that remark, Manuel stared fixedly at his com- 
panion. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 47 

“ Tortured ?” he repeated. 

“ Yes, the poor child is accustomed to see in you the 
man she will marry, — for it was my father’s wish that 
you should be united, — and she is jealous, you see, 
jealous with all the strength of love.” 

A frown knit Manuel’s brows. He quickened his 
pace as if to rid himself of his companion’s conversa- 
tion, and said in a cold voice : 

“You are mistaken, Zilla does not love me. She 
has never dreamed of what you say.” 

Ben- J oel had no opportunity to reply. Manuel had 
rejoined Zilla and walked by her side, thus putting an 
end to further questioning. 

Sulpice Castilian walked quietly along behind the 
group, according to Cyrano’s instructions. As he 
went on, he said to himself : 

“ What in the devil can my master want to know 
about this jail-bird for ? ” 

Contrary to Sulpice’s supposition, the three adven- 
turers passed the Pont-Neuf, which he thought would 
be their stopping-place, and entered a miserable-looking 
house beyond the porte de Nesle, in the quarter now 
the aristocratic Faubourg Saint-Germain. Roland’s 
purse, so hurriedly picked up by Ben- Joël, was full 
enough so that on that day there was no need to cast 
the good Parisian’s horoscope, nor to give feats of 
jugglery. In that company of which Ben- Joël was 
the chief, they lived from hand to mouth. 

Sulpice Castilian remained in front of the door of 
the old house for some time, long enough to assure 
himself that the Bohemians would not leave it, and 
that it was indeed their place of abode. Then, as it 
was in the very quarter in which he lived with Cyr- 


48 Captain Satan, or, 

ano, Castilian continued on his way and reached his 
master’s house. 

Savinien’s impatience must have been very great, 
for on the morning of the following day, after receiv- 
ing an exact account of Castilian’s proceedings, he 
took his sword, put in his pocket a small box which 
he took from a chest on the mantelpiece in his room, 
and turned toward the house occupied by Manuel. 

Castilian had given him a faithful description of the 
house, and at his first words, he had recognized it as 
the one that the students, frequent visitors in the 
quarter, had christened the House of Cyclops. It was 
a high, narrow building, made of beams and of strong 
joists held together with plaster, becoming entangled, 
like gigantic arms, in one confused mass. A low door, 
iron-bound, was in an angle. There was not one win- 
dow on the first floor of the façade. One large bay 
alone broke the straight line of the black wall the 
entire height of the edifice, between the two slate- 
colored eaves, full of green moss, and from which, like 
a head of hair, hung tufts of grass. That sole aper- 
ture, enclosed by a large leaded glass, occasionally at 
night, gave out a reddish light. It was like an e}^e in 
the centre of a giant’s forehead. For that reason the 
students always ready with mythological comparisons, 
had called the house, — dark and silent by day, full of 
light and noises at night, — the House of Cyclops. 

The bourgeois talked of it with a sort of fear. Rumor 
said that diabolical deeds took place there. It was 
the haunt of sorcerers or at least of counterfeiters and 
of bandits. 

Cyrano, who feared nothing, and who, in accord- 
ance with his name of the duelist, which he counte- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 49 

nanced himself, felt strong enough to extinguish the 
sun in the firmament like a mere candle, Cyrano 
knocked loudly at the low door. A long silence fol- 
lowed his summons. Then a heavy step was heard on 
the wooden stairs, and the door opened, disclosing to 
view the face of an old woman, as yellow and wrinkled 
as an apple six months old. 

Through the crack of the door, which the woman 
prudently held half open, Cyrano could indistinctly 
see some rags hanging on the walls, and something 
like pallets arranged in the shadow around a table, 
while a stale, sour odor penetrated his nostrils. 

“ What do you want ? ” asked the old woman. 

“ I desire to speak to a young man who lives in this 
house.” 

“A young man? We have ten of them,” said the 
custodian of the dwelling, with a laugh ; “ what is his 
name ? ” 

“ Manuel, I believe.” 

“ Ah ! I know then. . . .” 

“ Well ? Where is he ? ” 

“He has gone out with Ben- Joël and Zilla, his asso- 
ciates.” 

“ Where shall I find them ? ” 

“ At the Pont-lSTeuf, probably.” 

“ Thank you.” 

And, as the heads of rogues ready for all occasions 
ranged themselves in the darkness, behind the old 
portress, Cyrano slipped a small coin into the latter’s 
hand and turned toward the Pont-Neuf. 

It was scarcely ten o’clock in the forenoon, and al- 
ready a dense and clamorous throng was assembled at 
the approaches to th s pont. That throng surrounded 


50 


Captain Satan, or, 

a puppet-show located near the moat of the porte de 
Hesles, opposite rue Guénéguad. 

The proprietor and impresario of that show was no 
other than the illustrious Jean Briocci, or Brioché, of 
whom we have before made mention and who has left 
a name in theatrical history. 

Deafening music issued from Brioché’s booth. He 
soon appeared himself, followed by his partner, Violon. 
At the sight of him the throng quieted down. The 
idlers contented themselves with looking at one an- 
other and winking significantly. Evidently they were 
awaiting some event full of interest. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Brioché, with a 
strongly marked Italian accent, “before opening the 
doors of my booth to you, I wish to give you a fore- 
taste of the beautiful things you will see there.” 

“ Such as the adventures of the humpbacked buf- 
foon,” interrupted Violon, “the unequalled puppet, 
a wonderful amusement for people troubled with 
spleen.” 

A terrible kick, the classic kick of outlandish shows, 
cut short Violon’s eloquence. 

Brioché continued : 

“You have, ladies and gentlemen, heard tell of my 
monkey, Fagotin, the wonder of wonders.” 

“Yes, Fagotin! Fagotin!” cried the crowd, putin 
good-humor by that preamble. 

“Well!” thundered the orator, “I w T ill show you 
the wonder and it shall not cost you a red cent, as I 
showed him to you yesterday, as I will show him to 
you to-morrow.” 

He made a sign. Violon vanished and soon re- 
turned, leading a monkey with head dressed in the 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 51 

most, ridiculous fashion, and walking with comical 
affectation. 

A hurst of unanimous laughter welcomed that en- 
trance. 

“ Ah, it is he ! Ha, Fagotin ! Ha ! fine M. de Ber- 
gerac ! ” 

In order to explain that clamoring, we must say 
that the ape Fagotin was nothing but a striking cari- 
cature of Cyrano. The facetious reproduction of the 
manners, the costume and the proud carriage of the 
poet, had cost Brioché great pains. 

The ape, according to an account of the hero of our 
story was “ as fat as an Amiens pâte, as tall as a cox- 
comb, as full of buffoonery as the devil ; Brioché had 
put on his head an old hat, made of the wool of the 
vigon plume, on which hid the holes, the cracks and 
the gum ; his neck was encircled by a ruff à la Scar - 
amonche and he wore a doublet with six skirts, trimmed 
with lace and aiglets.” 

“ Look at him, what a fine appearance he presents,” 
cried Brioché, joining in the gaiety of the audience. 

Turning to the animal, he said : 

“ Come, fearless one ! Come, my fine Captain 
Satan ! slayer of giants, slasher of mountains, of cut- 
throats, show us what you can do.” 

The throng became all ears and all eyes. Those ad- 
miring the caricature, did not perceive the real Cyrano, 
who had just paused, in his turn, in front of the 
booth in the rear ranks of the spectators. On dis- 
covering what the noise was all about, on learning posi- 
tively that it was indeed his burlesqued effigy offered 
to the idlers’ jests, Cyrano felt his blood boil in his 
veins. His nose, — his nose so villainously satirized, — 


52 


Captain Satan, or, 

inhaled the air fiercely ; the poet would have liked to 
have fallen upon the stupid crowd which made sport 
of a man of his worth, with his sword, but curiosity 
was stronger within him than anger. He restrained 
his feelings and waited. 

“ Come,” resumed Brioché, borrowing his language 
from Cyrano’s works and talking to the ape, “we 
know that you carry at your side the grave digger’s 
foster-mother ; that the head of the last Sultan has 
made the pommel of your sword ; that with the wind 
from your hat you can submerge a navy, and that 
whosoever would know the number of men you have 
killed has only to take a nine with all the grains of 
sand in the sea to serve as zeros. Watch! We will 
give a performance.” 

The ape, marvelously erect, drew his sword and 
pretended to fence. In doing so, he imitated Cyrano’s 
movements so ludicrously, that the latter laughed 
with the crowd. 

Whilst Fagotin continued his exercises, a footman 
spied the gentleman’s head. He whispered several 
words in his neighbor’s ear ; the news spread from one 
to the other, and soon a great clamor arose. 

“ He is there ! It is he ! It is Cyrano ! It is the 
bewitched ! Guard, Fagotin ! here is your shadow ! ” 

And the throng began to look first at the poet then 
at the ape, comparing one with the other with such 
boisterous merriment that Savinien lost patience. 

“ Ha ! knaves ! ” he cried, “ will you lower your 
voices and clear the way ? ” 

A footman took it upon himself to reply for all the 
rest. He took his hat in his hand, and, approaching 
Cyrano, said: 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 53 

“ Pardon, sir, is that your everyday nose ? What 
a devil of a nose ! Please move back ; it prevents me 
from seeing.” 

It was the direst of offences to speak to Cyrano of 
his nose. He drew himself up like' a fighting-cock, 
unsheathed his sword, and, without crying, Out of the 
way ! he rushed upon the crowd, which deafened him 
with its mockery. 

In a trice the place was cleared. Cyrano had be- 
fore him no other enemy than the ape, Fagotin, which, 
armed like a gentleman, pretended to cross swords. 

Savinien, beside himself, treated the ape as he 
would have a footman. He made a lunge at him that 
spitted him. 

At the sight of the dead ape, Brioché began to 
whimper in the most piteous fashion. Cyrano, ap- 
peased by the bloody reparation, calmly watched him 
embrace the victim of the accident. 

“ Oh, M. de Cyrano,” finally said the Merry Andrew, 
in whom fear engendered a prudent reserve, “ I swear 
that I will sue you, and it will cost you at least fifty 
pistoles.” 

‘‘Wait a little,” replied Cyrano, “I will pay you in 
money for the ape, and you will not have stolen it.” 

He then returned his sword to its sheath, readjusted 
his hat, and with a steady step crossed the entire 
pont, seeking to recognize Manuel and his companions 
in the crowd just now so insolent, but that now pru- 
dently cleared away before him. 

The face of the extemporizer was not to be seen. 

The gentleman returned to rue Guénégaud, resolved 
to return to the House of Cyclops there to await Mam 
uel, when he found himself in Zilla’s presence, 


54 


Captain Satan, or, 

“Ha, my lovely child,” he exclaimed, with satis- 
faction, “ one word, I pray you.” 

Zilla looked at the man who approached her so 
boldly, and, recognizing him, she stopped, awaiting 
the question he wished to ask. 

Behind Zilla was Ben- Joël, who was trying to hide 
his face, which the sight of Savinien had darkened 
strangely. 

“ Tell me,” resumed the poet, “ if the young man 
who was at Hôtel de Faventines yesterday is in some 
unknown hole of the Pont-Neuf, for, on my word, I 
have strained my eyes to find him ? ” 

“ Manuel ? ” asked the fortune-teller. 

“Yes.” 

“ He is not with us this morning.” 

“ Ah ! And where is he, might I know ? ” 

“ Here is my brother who can answer you better 
than I.” 

Zilla bowed slightly to the gentleman and mingled 
with the throng, leaving Ben- Joël in an embarrassing 
tête-à-tête . 

The Bohemian was on the point of slipping wisely 
away, when Savinien’s hand was laid on his shoulder. 

“ Are you as shy as your sister,” said the poet at the 
same time ; “ do you also refuse to reply ? ” 

“ Sir . . .” stammered the Bohemian. 

The tone of that supplicating voice undoubtedly 
awoke a tardy reminiscence in Cyrano’s mind, for he 
sought to look at his companion’s face, while the latter 
obstinately kept his head bowed. 

“ Pardon me ! ” he said. 

And without any ceremony he put his hand under 
the adventurer’s chin and exposed his face to the light. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 55 

“ Ah, ah ! ” he then exclaimed, “ so it is you ? ” 

“ You have recognized me, my lord.” 

“ Zounds, knave, it is not your fault, you hid your- 
self with enough care.” 

“ What would you have ? I was ashamed.” 

“ Hypocrite ! when I met you, I almost promised 
to have you arrested when I should have the leisure, 
do you remember ? ” 

“ I remember ; but forget it, my lord. That night I 
was far from my kindred, I was hungry, I yielded to 
temptation.” 

“ Hum ! a temptation that has often been renewed.” 

“ I am an honest man at bottom.” 

“ To find that bottom, it would be necessary to dig 
very deep down.” 

“ I swear to you. . . .” 

“ To be brief : I have found you, and just at the 
moment when I need you most. In consideration of 
that I renounce my rights to your hide, rogue.” 

“ I do not renounce my vengeance,” muttered the 
bandit. 

Then in a humble tone he said : 

“ I am yours, my lord. In what can I serve you ? ” 

“ Where is Manuel ? ” 

“At the porch of Hôtre Dame, but at eleven o’clock 
he should rejoin me at the house.” 

“ Let us go thither ; we will wait for him.” 

“ Will you go to my house ? ” 

“ Why not ? ’ 

“ Because. . . .” 

“ Is your dirty hole a cut-throat place into which an 
honest man should not venture ? ” 

Certainly not.” 


56 


Captain Satan, or, 


“ Then, come.” 

Ben- Joël obeyed reluctantly. 

“ Let us talk a little,” said Cyrano as they walked 
along. “ Who is this Manuel ? ” 

“ A good comrade . . . like me.” 

41 ‘ Is he,” asked the poet, with a sort of anxiety, “ like 
you . . . does he at times yield to temptation ? 

Does he make a business of robbing people on the 
roads ? ” 

“ Oh, never ! ” replied the bandit with genuine con- 
viction. “ He has a generous and loyal nature.” 

Cyrano breathed a sigh of relief. 

“ What is his origin ? ” he asked again. 

“ A child of chance like us all.” 

“ But he is not without education ; how was he 
reared ? ” 

“ Bather by an adventure. Once when my father’s 
tribe was still intact, — for my father was a chief of 
our race, — we one day gave shelter to a poor devil of 
an Italian doctor, who had been obliged to leave his 
country, on account of a duel . . . unfortunate 

man . . . you understand ? ” 

“ Perfectly. Continue.” 

“The doctor was a great scholar. He took an in. 
terest in Manuel, and finding him apt, he wished to 
have him for his pupil, in order to charm away the 
ennui of his exile. Manuel took to it marvelously, 
and that is why he makes rhymes to please the ladies.” 

“ What has become of his professor ? ” 

“ He died.” 

“ A natural death ? ” 

“Yes, of indigestion. The food man became a 
great gormand in his old age.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 57 

“ May God rest his soul ! — Let us return to Manuel ; 
you told me that he was a child of chance.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Of your race ? ” 

“I believe so. . . .” 

Cyrano grasped Ben-Joël’s wrist, and looking at 
him with disturbing persistence, he asked : 

“ Are you sure of it ? ” 

“ Why that question ? ” returned the Bohemian, 
whose countenance betrayed indecision. 

“ Because I have other ideas of Manuel’s origin ! ” 

“ What are they ? ” 

“ I believe he is a stolen child ! ” 

“ Stolen ! ” cried Ben- Joël, turning pale in spite of 
himself. 

“ Yes, stolen, not by you, you are too young, but by 
your kindred, by your father, perhaps.” 

“Ah, good lord,” replied Ben- Joel in his natural 
voice, “ why should they have stolen him ? ” 

“ To do with him as your like does ! To use him as 
a bait for the charity of passers-by, to rear him to 
theft and to crime, perhaps to obtain a ransom later on 
from his family ! How do I know ! There is no lack 
of reasons.” 

“ Undeceive yourself, my lord, Manuel is of. our 
blood.” 

“ Do not swear to that ; for perhaps I will force you 
to deny it. Moreover, before inquiring any further, 
I wish to question Manuel.” 

As they had by that time reached the House of 
Cyclops, Cyrano concluded ; 

66 Guide me,” 


58 


Captain Satan, or, 


VIII. 

The two men entered. 

On coming into the low hall of the house, Cyrano 
saw that he was in a sort of miserable inn, where the 
old woman, whom we have already seen, for a small 
sum, dispensed hospitality nightly to the strollers on 
the crossroads. This room was always lighted by 
one single iron lamp hung from the ceiling. Prop- 
erly speaking, the unclean dormitory was a cellar, 
for the walls without openings were of leaky stone 
and the floor of earth. 

In one corner a wooden stairway, narrow and 
slimy, wound toward the upper story, rented to Ben- 
Joël and his companions, who were the only perma- 
nent guests in that strange dwelling. About the centre 
of the staircase- way was a small cabin containing a 
bed, and serving as a retreat for the mistress of the 
house, who lived there, alone, taciturn and sullen, as 
a toad in a hole in a rock. 

Ben- J oël’s apartments were divided into two parts. 
One was a room, lighted by the large leaded window", 
■ — the eye of Cyclops, — and belonging to Zilla. It w^as 
a sort of alchemist’s study, filled with retorts, with 
vases of all sorts and shapes, with a stove at the end, a 
bed covered with gaudy materials in one corner, some 
musical instruments and a large vase full of flowers 
on a small stand of carved oak. One could not feel 
that poverty lurked there ; but one would suspect the 
existence of a life made up of problems and mystery. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 59 

It showed a woman’s taste; and that woman the 
priestess of a mysterious worship ; jewels and unintel- 
ligible things, perfumes and poisons, knots of ribbon 
and steel stilettos were to be seen in singular disor- 
der; an atmosphere at once irritating and soothing 
was inhaled there, an atmosphere which confused the 
brain as well as the mind. 

The other part was occupied by Ben- Joël and Man- 
uel. It was a common attic, opening on the roof by 
means of a dormer-window. 

It was into Zilla’s room, separated from his by a 
narrow passage, that Ben- Joël ushered Savinien. 

Not without some surprise did Cyrano examine the 
interior, and scorning to renew the conversation com- 
menced with Ben- Joël, he seated himself to await the 
extemporizer’s return. Eleven o’clock struck in the 
distance. Soon after Manuel appeared. On finding 
Cyrano installed in his friend’s apartments, he was 
surprised, and his astonishment did not escape the 
gentleman. 

“ Does my presence amaze you ?” he asked, genially. 

“ Undoubtedly, sir, I did not know that Ben- Joël 
had business with you.” 

“It is not with Ben- Joël that I have business, but 
with yourself.” 

“ With me ?” 

“Precisely. We have serious matters to talk over.” 

At those words, Cyrano’s face assumed the quasi- 
solemn expression we saw upon it the night he visited 
Jacques Longuépée, the curé of Saint-Sernin. Ben- 
Joël, standing at the window, looked at the gentle- 
man with an air impatiently attentive. 

Cyrano pointed to the door : 


60 


Captain Satan, or, 


“ Leave ns,” said he. 

The Bohemian bowed, slowly crossed the room, and 
went out. 

“ Yery well,” he said, once only, “ search, inquire all 
you like, it is I on whom you have to depend, and, by 
the devil, I will not give you what you will want 
without making you pay for your blows. Gold or 
blood, I must have compensation, and I will have it.” 

When Ben- Joël had disappeared, Savinien care- 
fully closed the door, pushed a chair near the window, 
that is to say as far as possible from the entrance, and 
turning toward Manuel, said : 

“ Take a seat.” 

The young man obeyed, subdued by his interlocu- 
tor’s grave air. The gentleman took his seat opposite 
him. 

“I am here in your interest,” he commenced, — “it 
is essential to establish that fact above all else. Now, 
are you disposed to answer me frankly ? ” 

“ That depends.” 

“You must say simply yes or no,” returned Cyrano, 
with a shade of impatience. 

Manuel looked at him for an instant, and said : 

“Well, yes.” 

“Yery good. Let us proceed with method; you 
love Mlle. Gilberte de Faventines ? ” 

“ Sir ! ” stammered Manuel, attempting to rise. 

“You love her,” insisted Cyrano, overruling him 
with a firm glance. “ Your improvisation of yester- 
day was no idle fancy. Your eyes, your attitude were 
more eloquent than your verses ; Count Roland had 
cause to be jealous.” 

Manuel raised his head with a haughty air. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 61 

“ What if it should be so ? ” inquired the young 
man, as if surprised that any one should dare to de- 
scend thus into his heart’s mystery. 

“Well and good, I admit the fact,” tranquilly re- 
sumed Cyrano, “ but I admit also that in order to 
have dared to raise your eyes so high, you must have 
had a mental reservation.” 

“No ! . . . I love, I have confessed that love, 

it was my sole ambition.” 

“ Then, my dear fellow, you are mad Î ” 

“Why? I pay homage to a woman whose grace 
and beauty have charmed me. It is a personal senti- 
ment. What can it matter to her, since she does not 
love me ? ” 

“ I supposed something else.” 

“What?” 

“ I supposed that, not daring to hope to see Mile. 
Gilberte descend to you, you had devised some means 
of raising yourself to her level.” 

“ I do not wish to deceive any one ; it is not so.” 

“Truly?” 

“ I affirm it, what is more, I swear it.” 

“ Then,” emphasized Cyrano with a certain amount 
of disappointment, “ you are only a Bohemian, a beg- 
gar, somewhat bolder than the rest, that is all ? ” 

“ Nothing more,” confessed Manuel, modestly. 

“ Are you positive of this ? ” 

“ Why ... I think so,” murmured Manuel, 
whom his interlocutor’s tone troubled in spite of him- 
self. 

Cyrano drew his chair nearer the Bohemian’s. 

“ Belate to me your life,” he said ; “ I believe I have 
told you that you are speaking to a friend.” 


62 


Captain Satan, or, 


Manuel smiled. 

“ My God !” he commenced, lightly, “ my life is 
similar to that of my brother’s : it is an interminable 
voyage through the unknown, alternative poverty and 
opulence, a bed upon the ground, rainy days, sunny 
days, dry bread for a month, banquets for a week, and 
above all carelessness, which doubles good-fortune 
and makes one accept misfortune gaily.” 

“ All that is vague : let us go further.” 

“ As you like.” 

“ Do you know nothing of your past ? ” 

“ Yery little.” 

“ That little may have its value. Tell it to me.” 

“To be candid, I do not believe I am of Ben- Joel’s 
blood.” 

Cyrano heaved a sigh of satisfaction. 

“ What makes you think so ? ” 

“ My memories.” 

“You see, you do remember something.” 

“ Of what avail is it ? If, by chance, I prove to be 
a found child, who will restore me to my family ? ” 

“ Certain people,” said the gentleman, sententiously, 
“ know how to find a needle in a haystack ; I pretend 
to be of that number.” 

Manuel rose with a bound; his eyes sparkled, his 
breast heaved, his heart throbbed. 

“You ? ” he cried, “ what do you know ? ” 

“ Continue ! ” commanded Savinien, coldly. 

“ Well ! what do you want to hear ? ” 

“Your reminiscences, — the most insignificant to you 
may be the most important to me.” 

The extemporizer reflected for a moment, then he 
went on ; 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 63 

“That which is the most distinctly impressed 
upon my mind, is the home of Ben- Joel’s father : I was 
there, with his son, my present companion, his sister 
Zilla, a very little girl, and another child who died a 
few years after.” 

“ Ah ! ah ! what was that child’s name ? ” 

“ Old Joël called him Sarny ; I, I do not know why, 
always called him Simon.” 

Cyrano the Bold, he who would not pale before 
twenty sword-blades, turned pale and started at that 
name. His companion watched him with anxious 
curiosity. The gentleman noticed that watchfulness, 
and with the composure he knew how to command at 
will, he asked : 

“ Simon ? Did you know no other persons before 
those Bohemians and that child ? ” 

“ I can confusedly remember in the past the faces of 
old men and of women, other children larger than my- 
self, one especially . . . thin . . . bold of 

manner . . . proud of speech. . . .” 

“ Who was he ? ” 

“Wait” — and Manuel fell into a reverie, — “he was 
almost always with me, and often . . . often, he 

beat me.” 

“ One always remembers people who beat one,” ob- 
served Cyrano, with a dogmatic air. “ The stick is a 
powerful aid to the memory.” 

“He beat me, but I loved him dearly,” corrected 
Manuel. “His name? . . . Yes, I will remember 

his name, too.” 

“It was? . . .” asked Cyrano, who rose im- 

patiently. 

Had Manuel at that moment glanced at his cross- 


64 


Captain Satan, or, 

questioner, he would have seen his heart stir the silk of 
his doublet and enormous beads of perspiration trickle 
down his forehead. But his mind was busy elsewhere. 
He no longer thought of him who was speaking to 
him, he thought only of himself, of what he was, of 
what he might be, and fantastic images rose before his 
dazzled eyes. 

“ Speak ! ” thundered Cyrano, seizing his hand and 
shaking it to arouse him from that torpor. 

“I am hunting that name,” said the Bohemian. 
“ Oh ! I feel it on my lips, it seems to me that it flies 
away each time that I try to pronounce it.” 

“ Compose yourself.” 

“ Here it is ! ” cried Manuel, finally. 

« At last ! ” 

“ That child whom I loved, the companion of my 
early years, I called . . . yes ... it is 

that. . . .” 

“ You called him ? ” 

“ Savinien ; yes, Savinien ! ” he repeated, slowly, as 
if to convince himself that the syllables which fell 
upon his ear were really those with which he was 
formerly familiar. 

Cyrano rose again, this time not grave, but triumph- 
ant, transfigured. A smile was on his lips, his voice 
was at once joyous and tender. 

“ Savinien,” he explained, pressing his young friend’s 
fingers, “ that knave of a Savinien, that wicked rascal 
who beat his young pupil with a switch, when he 
missed his thrusts and parries in fencing, Savinien, 
who has grown, who has aged, but who has not for- 
gotten ! ” 

“ Do you know him ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 65 

“ Do I know him ? He still calls himself Savinien, 
but he has added to it Cyrano de Bergerac. — Ah ! old 
Lembrat will turn in his grave. — Embrace me, my 
child, embrace me ! ” 

Cyrano opened his arms. 

“ Savinien ! is it you ! ” stammered Manuel, replying 
to the noble’s cordial embrace. 

Then he asked with an anxiety easy to comprehend : 

“ Who am I ? ” 

“ You are no longer Manuel : down with the Bo- 
hemian name! Your name is Ludovic de Lembrat; 
you are Count Boland’s brother.” 

Manuel closed his eyes, as if stunned by a blow from 
a club. Such a revelation seemed to him a sport of 
Fate, a cruel irony, which would soon plunge him 
again into shadow. With pitiful hesitation he asked : 

“You are not deceiving me ? You are not playing 
upon my credulity ? ” 

“ First of all,” said Cyrano, “ do me the kindness to 
address me on familiar terms, — as formerly. Then, 
know that I have never deceived any one.” 

Manuel’s doubts were overcome. 

“ Ah ! it is happiness ! ” he confessed aloud, re- 
plying to a secret hope. “ But how did you think of 
it? . . .” 

“ Eh ? ” asked Cyrano. 

“How did you think,” (he used the familiar “ thou,”) 
corrected Manuel, — shaking the hand of the valiant 
man, who smiled on him, “ of finding Ludovic under 
the rage of the adventurer, Manuel ? ” 

“ That was very simple, — I looked at you.” 

“ I do not understand.” 

“ You will, however. Do you recognize this ? ” 


66 


Captain Satan, or, 

Savinien drew from his pocket a case and, opening 
it, disclosed to view the portrait of a young man 
dressed in an elegant hunting suit. 

“ My portrait ! ” exclaimed Manuel, in amazement. 

“It is not your portrait, but your father’s at the 
age of twenty, at your age. Do you now see how I 
recognized you at first sight? Your eyes, your smile, 
your gait, even the sound of your voice, cried to me : 
‘ Old Lembrat is revived in his son ! ’ That is why I 
had you followed and why I desired to question you ; 
great as may be a resemblance, it might be a freak of 
nature. You have spoken, now ; you have called me 
by name ; I no longer doubt ! ” 

“Ah, Savinien,” exclaimed the young man in a 
burst of grateful affection, “what do I not owe to 
you ? I can love now, can I not ? ” 

“ Selfish boy ! ” smiled the gentleman, “ we will see ; 
the most urgent matter is to have your brother ac- 
knowledge you. And for that, other proofs than you 
and my word, are necessary.” 

“ Proofs ? ” repeated Manuel, whom these words 
chilled. 

“ Undoubtedly. I cannot seek out the Count and 
say to him simply : Here is your brother.” 

A bitter smiled curled Cyrano’s lips. He knew 
Roland de Lembrat well ; he knew in advance what 
feeling he would arouse in him. 

“ He would not believe me,” he explained, “ were I 
simply to say that to him, for the absent are always 
wrong, especially when those absent are brothers, and 
when they come back, after a lapse of fifteen years, 
armed with their rights, to reclaim their place. The 
laws of men themselves would be with him against us, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 67 

in spite of what I could affirm ... in spite of 
what I know,” he concluded, almost in a whisper. 

“ If proofs are required,” said Manuel, suddenly, “ we 
will have them ! ” 

“ How ? ” 

“ Ben- Joel’s father was the chief of a large band, 
now scattered, and as such, the trustee of a book in 
which for years all the important events occurring in 
the tribe were inscribed.” 

“ Well ? ” 

44 That book must contain the record of my entrance 
and of Simon’s into Ben- Joel’s family.” 

44 With what object would they have kept a record 
of that fact, the result of a criminal action ? ” 

44 I do not know. Perhaps in view of a claim becom- 
ing the source of a benefit to the tribe ; perhaps, more 
simply, to avoid in the future the confusion of a man 
of alien blood with the sons of the pure Egyptian race.” 

“ Bah ! those people do not care about their gene- 
alogy.” 

44 You are mistaken ; old Joël was perfectly familiar 
with the history of all the families of his tribe. He 
carefully recorded the births and the marriages, and 
could trace the past of his race farther perhaps than 
the noblest houses of France.” 

44 Pass by that ; but you ! your origin ? ” 

44 Many times,” related Manuel, when we were wan- 
dering through France, have I seen sold or stolen chil- 
dren brought to the camp. When one was brought, 
he was presented to old Joël, who asked his nam®, 
wrote it in his book and said : 

44 4 Henceforth you are of our band.’ 

44 He then gave him another name, which he wrote 


68 


Captain Satan, or, 

after the first, and the child went away, mingled with 
those of the tribe, but was recognizable under all cir- 
cumstances ; it is thus that Simon was called Sarny, it 
was thus that I received my name of Manuel. What 
I have seen done for others, they did for me.” 

“ Probably. Where is the book ? ” 

“ In Ben-Joël’s hands.” 

“ In that case, we shall know all.” 

Cyrano opened the door precipitately enough to see 
Ben- Joël rush hastily into his room. The Bohemian 
had listened to the conversation just carried on, and if 
he had not heard all, he had at least guessed all. 

The nobleman seized him by his ear and said in a 
tone of menace : 

“ Spy, you were listening ? ” 

“ My lord!” 

“ Come along.” 

He dragged him into Zilla’s chamber. 

“ Answer, now. What did you overhear ? ” 

“Nothing, I assure you.” 

“ Do not lie. It matters little to me, just now, that 
you should not know what has passed ; I have no 
longer a secret to keep from you ; therefore, if your 
ears have served you well, confess it ; it will avoid ex- 
planations for me.” 

Ben- Joël stammered humbly : 

“ Excuse me, I was bored all alone in my room, and, 
my faith ! ...” 

“ You made yourself the third in our conversation ? ” 

“ To simplify matters, as you said, I confess it.” 

“ Then you know of Manuel’s new fate ? ” 

“ And I am rejoiced at it, my lord ; one is always 
pleased to see a good comrade prosper.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 69 

“ Especially, since he will be in a position to do you 
some good, eh ? ” 

“You can count on that,” interpolated Manuel. 
“For fifteen years I have been your guest ; the men 
whom I could blame for my misfortune are dead; 
Yiscount Ludovic de Lembrat will not lose sight of 
those with whom Manuel has shared his poverty.” 

“ Let us make more haste,” interrupted Cyrano ; 
“I am addressing Ben-Joël.” 

“ I am listening, my lord.” 

“ What do you know of Manuel ? Does the book of 
which he spoke contain anything of importance to 
him ? ” • 

“ Yes, his name and information regarding the cir- 
cumstances under which he was received.” 

“ You should say stolen.” 

“ One does not confess those things.” 

“ Zounds ! Give me the date of the kidnapping ? ” 

« October 25th, 1633.” 

“ The place ? ” 

“ Garrigues, near Fougerolles.” 

“ Does the book contain other details ? ” 

“ It tells of the death of Sarny, the child who came 
to us at the same time as Manuel.” 

“ Where is that book ? ” 

“ There ! ” 

Ben- Joël extended his hand, pointing to a corner of 
the room in which was an oaken chest with heavy 
iron-work. 

“ Give it to me,” said Cyrano. 

The Bohemian, flinging aside his air of humility, 
drew himself up like a man proud of his strength, and 
replied in a calm, confident manner : 


70 


Captain Satan, or, 


“ What for, my lord ? ” 

“ That I may use it to confirm Manuel’s identity, of 
course.” 

Ben- Joël and Cyrano looked at each other an in- 
stant ; the latter seemed to read some evil intention in 
the gypsy’s eyes, for he knit his brows and made a 
gesture of impatience. 

“To confirm Manuel’s identity,” replied Ben- Joël, 
in the same slow and firm voice, “ my evidence is suf- 
ficient for the moment.” 

“Will you obey?” rebuked Cyrano, who was com- 
mencing to twirl the end of his moustache furiously, 
surprised himself at his patience. 

Ben-Joël’s composure increased, owing to Cyrano’s 
irritation. The man had suddenly conceived a plan 
by the execution of which his hatred of Savinien, his 
ambition and his cupidity would later on be satisfied. 

The blows received on the road to Fougerolles still 
caused his shoulders to smart, and he smiled inwardly 
at the thought that he held in his power by one of the 
interests most dear to him, the man he detested. 

“ If it be necessary to produce that book in court,” 
he added, “ I will produce it myself ; I do not wish, 
(he emphasized that word,) I do not wish to have it 
taken from me.” 

“ Ah ! ” sneered Cyrano, taking a step toward him, 
“you set great value on that relic, do you, master 
Joël?” 

“Yes, Ido.” 

“ Indeed.” 

“As a relic first of all.” 

“ And then, if you please ? ” 

“ As a guarantee ! ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 71 

“I understand you, knave. You will only give up 
your proof for money ! ” 

“ Ha, my lord, that proof gives me a value which I 
should lose by giving it up.” 

“ Y ery well ! if it become necessary, the law will 
know how to open your hands.” 

At that threat, Manuel, who had not cared to join 
in the discussion, approached the Bohemian and said 
to him : 

“Do you mistrust me, Ben- Joël; have I given you 
the right to do so ? ” 

“ I mistrust fortune,” replied the adventurer, pru- 
dently. 

Cyrano took Manuel’s arm and turned toward the 
door. 

“ Come,” said he, “ I will take you home with me, 
we can talk better there, and this evening, to-morrow 
at the latest, you will meet your brother and resume 
your name. We shall meet soon, Ben- Joël.” 

“ When it pleases you, sir. I bear you no ill-will, 
Manuel.” 

When young Yiscount de Lembrat and Cyrano left 
the House of Cyclops, Ben- Joël wore a silent smile, 
which died away in a sudden contraction of his thin 
lips. That prudent, spiteful and voracious lynx had 
just had a glimpse of the future. Zilla’s step, steal- 
ing softly over the corridor-boards, snatched him from 
his dark dreams. 

“ Come hither, my girl,” he cried, “ great news ! ” 

“ What is it ? ” asked Zilla, removing her long brown 
cloak. 

“ It is, my dear, that, without suspecting it, we have 
for fifteen years sheltered a great lord.” 


72 Captain Satan, or, 

The fortune-teller turned pale, and her eyes, as dark 
as night, glowed. 

“ A great lord ? ” she repeated, fearing to hear more, 
and still eager to question. 

“Undoubtedly. Who is missing here ? ” 

“ Manuel ! ” 

“ Yes, Manuel, or rather,” said the bandit, making 
a low bow to an invisible being, “ Viscount Ludovic 
de Lembrat, lord of Fougerolles.” 

“ The proofs ? ” cried Zilla, with fierce authority. 

“ I have affirmed them.” 

u Yes ! ” 

Her eyes shot fire. Ben- Joël took no heed of that 
fact. 

“ Do you want to know how it happened, my dear ? 
Listen ! ” 

In a few words he told her the facts. 

Zilla received the confidence in silence, and the re- 
mainder of the day she remained seated in the same 
spot, her head in her hands, thinking. Toward even- 
ing Ben- Joël, who had gone out, found her as he had 
left her. 

“ Are you asleep, Zilla ? ” he asked. 

Without raising her pale brow, she replied : 

“Ho.” 

“Tt is supper-time, my girl ; are you coming ? ” 

“ Thank you.” 

“ Are you not hungry ? ” 

“Ho!” 

“ Please yourself ! ” 

Ben-Joël began to eat; then, after a brief silence, 
he asked : 

“ Come, Zilla, what ails you ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 73 
“ Nothing ! ” 

“Yes ! there is something. Is it Manuel’s departure 
that has taken your appetite ? Is it true, then, that 
you love him, sly jade ? ” 

“ What is it to you ? ” 

“ Who knows ? I only asked to make you happy.” 
Zilla rose, and, advancing toward her brother, and 
flashing her dark eyes upon him, she asked : 

“ Why did you let him go ? ” 

“ Is he not free ? ” 

“Why did you inspire him with that ambitious 
thought ? ” 

“ You are mad ! I have said nothing to him.” 

“ Is it true that he is a gentleman ? ” 

“It must be believed,” mocked Ben-Joël; “the 
proofs seem conclusive to me.” 

“ They are accursed ! ” 

“ Why, if you please ? ” 

“Because,” cried Zilla, overcome finally by her 
anguish, “ because Manuel is lost to me, because I love 
him, do you hear ? ” 

“You confess it, then ? ” 

“Yes,” she returned, vehemently, “I curse the 
happiness that has come to him and has killed mine. 
Will Manuel remember even our name in a week ? ” 
“Oh ! you may rest assured he will remember 
it.” 

Zilla did not comprehend the meaning of those 
words. 

“ If some one,” she insinuated, leaning toward her 
brother, surprised at that new accent, “ if some one 
should remove the proofs which give to Manuel the 
name of Lembrat, if, to aid in that result some one 


74 Captain Satan, or, 

were to offer you a fortune, tell me, Ben- Joël, what 
would you do ? ” 

The bandit winked his eye diabolically. 

“You are not so bad, my darling,” he smiled; 
“however, let me give you some advice.” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ Keep still and . . . wait.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. I 5 


IX. 

On the evening of that same day, there was a large 
and brilliant gathering in the Marquis de Faventines’ 
salon . 

Gilberte, out of the range of the lights, was receiv- 
ing Boland’s attentions with an absent air; the 
Marchioness, surrounded by several old gentlemen 
and two or three ladies, whose beauty had been at its 
height at the time of the youth of the late King Louis 
XIII., was talking softly, while M. de Faventines, 
seated at a table between two men with grave faces, 
was listening patiently to the remarks of a personage 
dressed in black, standing before him. 

That personage, who deserves special mention, was 
M. Jean de Lamothe, grand provost of Paris. With 
his long, withered and sallow face, his small eyes as 
bright as coals beneath their lids devoid of lashes, his 
thin, mocking lips, his forehead seamed with lines of 
obstinacy, Jean de Lamothe had nothing prepossessing 
in his favor. He was not however a bad man ; ad- 
dicted to the sciences, he employed in all questions 
relative to his studies a severity and at times an in- 
justice from which he fortunately knew how to free 
himself for the accomplishment of the duties of his 
office. His manner was solemn, his speech dogmatic, 
and although he did not defend good causes, as we 
shall see, at least he defended them with a warlike 
conviction. 

A large sheet of vellum was placed on the table 


76 


Captain Satan, or, 

between him and his three auditors. On that sheet, 
Jean de Lamothe had drawn some astronomical 
figures, and with his finger pointing to his work, his 
eye flashing fire, he continued his demonstration with- 
out remarking the indifference of his listeners. For 
the moment he had taken as his mark, Cyrano de 
Bergerac, author of theories which seemed to him the 
most subversive in the world, and that subject excited 
him greatly, for, without remarking it his voice cleared 
the middle register to assume a sharp, shrill tone. 

“ Yes, sirs,” he cried, having downed his imaginary 
contradictor beneath a supreme argument — for Cyrano 
was not there — “yes, the man who denies that de- 
serves to be burned alive on Place de Grève.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the Marquis, good-naturedly, “ do you 
treat our friend Cyrano thus ? What has he done to 
you ? ” 

“ What has he done ? He is a damned soul, an ac- 
complice of Satan, Marquis.” 

“ I should sooner have taken him for a madman.” 

“ A dangerous madman,” affirmed the grand-provost. 

Then, with indignation free from dissimulation, he 
said : 

“ Did he not write that the moon is inhabited ? ” 

“ What heresy ! ” said the Marquis, feigning a smile. 

“ And that the earth revolves ! ” 

“ What blasphemy ! ” 

“That is to say,” thundered the enraged savant , 
“ that social order is destroyed, that the world is 
coming to an end. — Bergerac is not a man, he is the 
anti-Christ.” 

“Do you not go a little too far? Bergerac is a 
friend of this family, M. de Lamothe.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 77 

“ Do you receive him ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed, and you would know it better were 
you not so chary of your visits.” 

“ Science is a tyrannical witness,” said the provost, 
in extenuation. 

“I assure you, my dear friend,” continued the 
Marquis, “that Bergerac improves on acquaintance, 
although he maintains that the moon is inhabited and 
that the earth revolves.” 

“ But that is just what irritates me ! It does not 
revolve, and I will demonstrate it to you once more.” 

The Marquis bowed his head. He had not expected 
that new blow ; his eyes advised patience to his two 
acolytes, who were dozing in their armchairs, and 
Jean de Lamothe’s long arm was again stretched over 
the celestial chart spread before him. 

“Follow me well,” said he. “This small circle is 
the moon, that other the earth, and I ... I rep- 
resent the sun.” 

“ That is modest of you,” murmured M. de Faven- 
tines, between two discreet yawns. 

Those premises made, the savant resumed his dis- 
sertation. 

Whilst he lost himself in the development of his 
thesis, the door opened softly, and Cyrano de Bergerac 
appeared. A sign from the Marquis stealthily 
showed him the orator, and, the young man, after 
greeting Gilberte and her mother, took Boland’s arm 
and advanced to the table which the provost for the 
moment had set up for a tribune. 

Jean de Lamothe did not know that the enemy was 
standing motionless behind him. 

“ Therefore, dear Marquis,” he concluded, “ Cyrano 


78 


Captain Satan, or, 

de Bergerac is an impostor, and the earth does not 
revolve, because it is flat, as has been established by 
the illustrious Jean Grangier.” 

“ It does revolve,” then interposed Cyrano, irrever- 
ently, “ and there is not on its vast surface a worse 
platitude than the argument you cite.” 

The provost leaped aside, as if he had heard the 
trump of judgment sounding in his ear. 

“ Ah ! it is you, sir,” said he, when his agitation 
was controlled, “ it is you who contradict me ? ” 

“ It is I,” replied the poet, laughing, “ and ready to 
give you an answer, if you please, and if these ladies 
will permit.” 

Jean de Lamothe knit his brow. At heart he was 
delighted. He had his adversary fast ; he was about 
to have the pleasure of confounding, of crushing, of 
annihilating him. A circle was formed around the 
two polemists. 

The contest promised to be interesting. 

“ So, sir,” advanced the provost, who proudly took 
his post in front of Cyrano and seemed to increase in 
height, “ you still sustain that utopia ? You are tri- 
fling with us, sir, and with those who read your writ- 
ings. What foundation have you for imagining that 
the sun does not move when we can see it ? And 
what proof that the earth revolves with such rapidity, 
when we can feel it stationary beneath our feet ? ” 

Cyrano did not heed the shrug of the shoulders full 
of scornful pity with which the savant accompanied 
his apostrophe, and replied with a smile : 

“ Ah, mon Dieu , provost, the thing is very simple, 
and I will explain it to you by an example within the 
reach of all minds.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 79 

J ean de Lamothe made a movement as if about to 
speak. 

“Do not trouble yourself,” Savinien hastened to 
add. “It is common to believe that the sun is in the 
centre of our sphere, since all the bodies in Nature 
have need of that radical fire.” 

“ Absurd proposition,” grumbled the provost. 

“ Therefore,” resumed the poet, “ the sun is in the 
heart of the world, to nourish and to vivify it, just as 
the core is in the centre of the apple, the stone in the 
fruit, the germ under the protection of the numerous 
layers of the onion. The universe is that apple, that 
fruit, that onion, and the sun, that germ around which 
all gravitates.” 

A slight sneer was the provost’s sole reply. 

“Do you really think,” persisted Cyrano, “that 
that large centre turns around our earth to warm and 
to light it ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“Well, sir, if you think that, it is almost the same 
as if you thought, on seeing a lark broiled, that they 
turned the fire around the spit in order to cook it.” 

And, satisfied with his joke, the nobleman turned 
quickly on his heel, troubling himself no longer about 
his opposer. 

“ I yield the precedence to you,” said the provost, 
whose arguments did not assume that light form; 
“your infernal wit will cause your death on a 
stake.” 

“ In that case, provost, rest assured, you are certain 
of expiring in your bed.” 

That insolence glued the provost to the spot. When 
he looked for Cyrano in order to answer him, the lat- 


80 


Captain Satan, or, 

ter was at the other end of the salon , seated with Bo- 
land, near Gilberte. 

Bo allusion to the scene of the preceding day had 
yet been made by Count de Lembrat, in the presence 
of his fiancee. But when Cyrano formed the third in 
the conversation Boland did not fear to touch on the 
exciting subject. Cyrano’s preoccupation had not 
escaped him, and he had seen Sulpice Castilian go in 
pursuit of the three Bohemians. 

“ Have you seen your young secretary ? ” he asked 
of Cyrano. 

“ Why that question ? ” 

“ Because Master Sulpice seemed to me greatly be- 
witched by the beautiful eyes of the sybil who told us 
such fine things yesterday, and he followed her with 
such eagerness that he may have gone a long distance.” 

“Which proves that my excellent Castilian has 
taste. The beautiful Bohemian is worth notice. 
However, rest easy, my secretary has returned.” 

The Count, desirous of learning the key-note of the 
problem he had set himself to solve, was about to 
venture another question when Savinien prevented him. 

“ On learning yesterday of your approaching mar- 
riage, my dear Boland,” said he, “ and on rejoicing 
with you, a sad thought crossed my mind.” 

“ What was it ? ” 

“ I thought of your brother, Boland.” 

The Count started, Gilberte listened attentively. 

“ A brother ! ” she said ; “ the Count has never 
spoken to us of him ! ” 

“It was,” ventured Cyrano, somewhat ironically, 
“ because he feared to make you sad by a painful rev- 
elation.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. ' 81 

“ Why,” stammered Boland, “ stir up those memo- 
ries, why evoke that sorrowful story, which, alas ! has 
no end ? ” 

Cyrano smiled vaguely and murmured : 

“ Perhaps it has.” 

An expression of anxiety was depicted on Count de 
Lembrat’s features. 

“ Tell us that story, M. de Cyrano,” besought Gil- 
berte, “ I beg of you.” 

“ It is very simple : 

“ Ludovic, Boland’s brother, was five years old 
when I was thirteen, and old Count de Lembrat, by 
whom I was raised, often entrusted the child to me : 
I taught him to mount a horse, to fence, everything 
that I then knew passably. One day when I was ab- 
sent from Fougerolles, Ludovic went a short distance 
from the castle with the gardener’s son, named Simon 
Yidal, a boy of his age. When night came, the search 
for the two children was vainly made. Had they 
fallen into the Dordogne, while looking for nests un- 
der the willows ? Had they been stolen by a band of 
gypsies? Ho one could say. Count de Lembrat 
died recommending Boland to my care and bidding 
me remember Ludovic, whom I had sworn to find for 
him if he was still alive.” 

“It is more than fifteen years since Ludovic disap- 
peared,” interposed the Count ; “ he is no doubt dead.” 

“Your brother would now have attained the age 
when a man reasons and makes researches ; who 
knows if he will not find you some day, since you 
have not had a chance to find him ? ” 

“Oh, I wish it with all my heart,” exclaimed 
Gilberte. 


82 


Captain Satan, or, 

Cyrano’s aim can be guessed. Before revealing to 
Boland this brother’s existence, he was studying the 
man’s heart ; before putting him to the test of friend- 
ship, he desired to know on what sort of a ground he 
would have to work. 

Boland’s countenance was evidently displeased. 
The possibility of his brother’s return awoke within 
him secret revolt ; he instinctively felt himself threat- 
ened. 

“ The recognition,” resumed Cyrano, replying to 
Gilberte’s exclamation, “ would cost Boland one-half 
of his fortune ; but I fancy he would not regret it.” 

The Count felt the thrust, and said coldly : 

“If my brother returns, I will receive him with 
open arms ; I will do for him what I should, but I 
shall not forget that I am the eldest of the Lem- 
brats ! ” 

“ I judged aright,” thought Cyrano ; “ there will be 
a struggle.” 

Then gently he returned : 

“ The eldest of the Lembrats, that is true, but. . . .” 

“But ... ?” 

“ That would not exempt you from giving your 
brother a reckoning.” 

“ The common law is on my side, I think.” 

Boland’s character was beginning to reveal itself in 
its real light. 

“The common law is respectable, undoubtedly,” 
said Cyrano, “ nevertheless it gives way before certain 
considerations.” 

“ What are they ? ” 

“ The wish of the father of the family.” 

“ In that case, there would be necessary. . . 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 83 

“ What?” 

“ A will ! ” 

“ Precisely, my dear friend, and that is what I was 
coming to ! That will. . * 

“ Well?” 

“ Exists ! ” 

“ My father’s ? ” 

“ Your father’s ! ” 

“ You are mistaken, Cyrano.’* 

“ No, I am not ; I have told you nothing about it, 
because it was useless to speak to you of it as long as 
you had no engagements to bind you; but you are 
now about to wed, it is only right that your new 
family should not be ignorant of your past debts nor 
of your future obligations.” 

“ My father was more jealous than any other person 
of the lustre of his name ; if he has done what you 
say, he could not have ousted me without derogating 
from his principles.” 

“ He loved his sons equally ; he desired that one 
should share fortune and honors equally with the 
other.” 

“ You must be familiar with the terms of that will, 
to know so much about it ? ” 

“ I am.” 

Poland bit his lips. 

“ Where has my father left it ? ” he asked, trem- 
bling. 

“ In my hands ! ” 

The Count stifled an exclamation. 

“ Count,” said Gilberte, chilled by her fiance's man- 
ner, “ do you regret your father’s choice ? ” 

« God forbid ! my father loved Savinien and knew 


84 


Captain Satan, or, 

him to be strong and faithful ; I have now but one 
wish : that my brother may return ! Even in giving 
him one-half of my fortune, I shall still be rich enough 
to give you the life of happiness which you have a 
right to expect.” 

“Well said, Eoland,” said Cyrano, who rose to take 
leave. 

The Count detained him, and, drawing him some- 
what aside, said in a low voice : 

“ One word, my dear friend.” 

“ Well!” 

“ Where is my father’s will ? ” 

“Why?” 

“ I am simply curious ! And then, could we not 
obtain the necessary dispensation to open the docu- 
ment ? ” 

“ Take care, Eoland, you doubt my word ! ” 

“Eo.” 

“ There is in your father’s will something else be- 
sides the question of money.” 

« What ? ” 

“ A terrible confession ! ” 

“ Terrible ! for whom ? ” 

“ For you ! ” 

“ For me ? ” 

“ Yes, believe me, Eoland ; for the sake of your own 
peace of mind, let your father’s secret rest.” 

“ But,” persisted the Count, vexed and at the same 
time troubled by those confidences behind which he 
felt a vague threat, “ if you should die, what would 
become of that testament ? ” 

“ Do not worry yourself about that difficulty ; I 
have provided for it.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 85 

And as Boland looked at him with indecision, 
Cyrano concluded, extending his hand to him : 

“ My dear Count, it is not without a purpose that I 
have just told you all these things. You are nearing 
a solemn moment, and, before putting you in the 
presence of facts, I desired to know what I could hope 
or fear from your heart ; my opinion is formed now.” 

“ What have you still to tell me ? ” 

“ You shall know to-morrow.” 

“ To-morrow ? ” 

“ At my house ; can I count on your visit ? ” 

“ I promise you. At ten o’clock I shall knock at 
your door.” 


86 


Captain Satan, or, 


X. 

Sulpice Castillan was writing in Cyrano’s room, 
seated at a table near the open window, which ad- 
mitted the fresh air and the bright morning light. In 
his very best handwriting, the secretary was recopy- 
ing an act from the tragedy of Agrippine, which 
caused its author, Cyrano, so much worry. 

Master Castilian was not happy, for he was singing. 
Such was the good youth’s nature. When satisfaction 
filled his soul, Castilian enjoyed his happiness in 
silence ; on the other hand, his ill-humor was ex- 
pressed in songs and facetiousness. Did he wish to 
divert himself or to set fate at defiance ? That was a 
problem to be solved. He was never so sad as when 
he was happy, and never so gay as when he was 
miserable. 

On this especial morning, whether his pen was bad, 
or whether unpleasant dreams had disturbed his sleep, 
Castilian began for the third time the couplet, the 
production of his master’s brain, — 

“ L’on ne verra plus dans Paris 
Tant de plumes ni de moustaches 
De duellistes aguerris, 

L’on n’en verra plus dans Paris! 

Consolez- von s, jaloux maris, 

Adieu, raffinés et vravaches ! 

L’on ne verra plus dans Paris 
Tant de plumes ni de moustaches; ” 

The couplet finished, Sulpice was about to criticise 
it for the eleventh time, when a serving- woman, ro- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 87 

bust, fleshy, buxom, and walking with the step of a 
cavalier, entered. Suzanne, so she styled herself, was 
a typical native of Périgord, aged about forty, whom 
Cyrano had taken into his service in a day of opulence. 
She was attached to him, and although the poet, after 
the second month of her service, had forgotten to pay 
her her wages, she did not want to leave him. She 
was, too, almost the mistress of the house, where her 
freedom of speech surprised no one. 

She planted herself in front of Castilian and apostro- 
phized him unceremoniously : 

“ He sings, the careless fellow ! Say, are you paid 
to sing ? ” 

“ I am singing because I am annoyed, Suzanne.” 

“ The fine fellow ! Look at him ! Why are you 
annoyed ? ” 

“ Because the weather is beautiful, because I should 
like to go out, and because M. de Bergerac is late in 
coming to give me permission.” 

“ Indeed, where is our master ? ” 

“ He has not fought since day before yesterday, and 
M. de Vangis came in search of him at daybreak to 
have him serve as his second.” 

“ Good ! He will return to us with a gash. Oh ! 
what a furious fighter your patron is, Castilian ! ” 

“ What would you have ? It is life to that man ! 
When he has not a duel two or three times in a week, 
he thinks the world is going awry.” 

Notwithstanding Suzanne’s predictions, Cyrano re- 
turned safe and sound. It was nine o’clock, and 
Boland de Lembrat would not be late. 

At the sight of her master, Suzanne hastily left the 
room, and Cyrano seated himself beside Castilian. 


S 8 Captain Satan, or, 

“ Have you finished ? ” he asked the secretary, who, 
at the thought of his speedy release, suddenly assumed 
a morose air. 

« Yes.” 

“Very well; you can go out until this evening; I 
shall not need you. Ah ! wait, I must dictate a letter 
to you.” 

“ To whom ? ” 

“ To that rascally Montfleury.” 

“ The actor at Hôtel de Bourgogne ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ What has he done again ? ” 

“He has taken it upon himself to interdict my 
pieces and to prevent his comrades from playing 
them.” 

Sulpice began to whistle. His ill-humor was re- 
turning. He submitted, however, and taking his pen, 
said : 

“ I am ready.” 

Cyrano began to pace the floor with lengthy strides, 
and as he walked, he dictated the following letter 
which is not without interest as a trait of our hero’s 
character, and as an example of his strange turn of 
mind : 

“ Coarse man, I can assure you that if blows could 
be sent in writing, you would read my letter with 
your shoulders. 

“ Ho you think that because you were not challenged 
within twenty-four hours, that I wish to leave your 
death to the executioner ? Ho ! In the meanwhile, 
know, knave, that I interdict you for a month, and 
rest assured that if you forget my prohibition and 
dare to appear on the stage, I will prevent you from 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 89 

being numbered among living things and will crush 
you in such a manner that a flea, licking the ground, 
would not be able to distinguish you from the pave- 
ment. . . 

When that triumphant epistle was finished, he who 
was called Captain Satan added to it his heroic signa- 
ture and breathed a sigh of satisfaction. The battle 
was well advertised. Cyrano was contented with it. 

“ Go, my boy,” he bade Castilian, “ take the letter 
yourself, and if the rogue is not satisfied, tell him I 
will go in search of his ears to-night ; go.” 

Castilian hastened to obey. On the staircase he 
met Count Roland de Lembrat, who had come faith- 
ful to the engagement made the day before. 

Savinien had prepared his way too thoroughly and 
knew his visitor’s disposition too well, not to proceed 
straight to his object. Determined to grasp the 
situation promptly, he scarcely gave Roland time to 
sit down, when he asked gaily : 

“ Do you know why I asked you to come ? ” 

“ I would be obliged would you tell me, for your 
words of yesterday contained a mystery I should like 
to see cleared up.” 

“ Yery well ! I will not try your patience long ; you 
are a man, and I think joy, great as it might be, would 
not kill you.” 

That was said in an ironical tone, which did not 
escape Roland. 

“ What do you intend to do ? ” he interrupted. 

“ I have a surprise for you.” 

“ What is it?” 

“A great surprise. Do you remember what you 
said to me yesterday before Mademoiselle Gilberte ? ” 


90 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ What did I say to you ? ” 

“ This : 4 If my brother should return, I would re- 

ceive him with open arms ! ’ ” 

Eoland commenced to understand. His flesh was 
wet with perspiration. 

“ That is quite natural,” said he, with an effort. 

“Well, my friend,” cried Cyrano, raising the por- 
tiere of an adjoining room, “open your arms, your 
brother has returned : here he is ! ” 

That scene prepared by Cyrano, foreseen perhaps by 
Eoland, caused his strength to give way, and he clung 
convulsively to his cross-examiner’s arm. 

For a second he could not see, he could not hear. 
But when, in the brother presented to him, who, 
trembling, beside himself with joy and hope, extended 
his arms to him, he recognized the Bohemian of the 
day before, the audacious adventurer who had been 
his rival, the man he had ignominiously chased out of 
the garden, a stifled cry escaped the Count’s breast, 
and he recoiled in order to escape the odious sight. 

“ It is he ! He ! ” he repeated, instinctively clinch- 
ing his fists. 

“ He ! ” said Cyrano. “ Look at him ; has he not 
your father’s features ? ” 

Whilst Eoland cast a troubled and uncertain glance 
upon his brother, Manuel approached softly, and 
bending his knee before the Count, said : 

“ My brother, two days since, Providence placed us 
face to face, and nothing told us that the same blood 
flowed in our veins. I offended you doubly then : I 
ask your pardon for it; you are the eldest of the 
Lembrats, henceforth you will find me faithful to the 
devotion, to the love and to the respect which I owç 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 91 

to the head of my family ; my life has been obscure 
and miserable, my honor, however, is intact ; give me 
your hand, my brother, I am worthy to press it.” 

Boland made a desperate effort to appear calm, and, 
as if regretfully, he gave Manuel his hand, saying : 

“ Bise, sir. I cannot yet give vent to my delight ; 
first there must be light cast upon your case. Before 
giving you the title of brother which you claim, I re- 
quire proofs, conclusive proofs.” 

“ Zounds, my dear Boland,” cried Cyrano, sharply, 
“ you are not very complimentary to my truthfulness, 
it seems to me ; do you think I am presenting a fraud- 
ulent brother to you ? At any rate, you shall have 
the proof or the testimony you require.” 

And turning to Manuel, he said : 

“ Go and fetch Ben-Joël; we await him.” 

While the young man ran to the House of Cyclops, 
Cyrano informed the Count of what had taken place. 
He told him of the notes recorded in Joel’s book, 
notes confirmed by the testimony of the Bohemian to 
which, in case of need, would no doubt be added that 
of Zilla, and Boland realized that he had at present 
but to bow before the fate prepared for him. 

Manuel soon returned, bringing with him his former 
companion. At the sight of Boland, Ben- Joel’s face 
suddenly lighted up ; the strategic knave saw things 
beginning to assume a form. 

An expression of satisfaction at the same time ap- 
peared on the Count’s face. In that bandit with the 
air of a hypocrite, by his sidling gait, he had at once 
recognized a nature ready for' all concessions, and he 
said to himself : 

“ It is there that I must strike in order to conquer,” 


92 


Captain Satan, or, 

Ben- Joel, questioned, docilely repeated all that he 
had said on the previous day. As on that day, he re- 
fused to give up the valuable book. On that point the 
Count .did not insist, and, outstretching his hand to 
Manuel with apparent frankness, he said, 

“My brother, all my doubts have vanished. Ber- 
gerac answers for you, and I feel by the action of my 
heart that you are indeed he I was awaiting ; come, I 
will myself present you to my servants, more than 
one of whom will remember the lost child.” 

“ That is well-said, but is it sincere ? ” wondered 
Cyrano. Manuel took the hand which his brother 
gave to him and kissed it respectfully. 

“ See him,” said Savinien to the Count, “ he is truly 
graceful ; in less than eight days, we will have made 
a beau of him.” 

“In less than eight days,” mentally repeated the 
eldest of the Lembrats, “he will have resumed his 
rags.” 

Turning toward Ben- Joël he said, pouring into the 
Bohemian’s hand all the gold his pockets contained, 
“there is the first proof of the pleasure you have 
caused me.” 

Then, in a very low voice, he added, while Manuel 
was weeping with joy on Cyrano’s shoulder : 

“Where can you be found, if one has need of 
you ? ” 

“ At the House of Cyclops, near the porte de JSesle, 
my lord,” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 93 


XL 

Roland de Lembeat’s dwelling was on rue Saint- 
Paul. On arriving at Paris, where he counted on 
spending the greater part of his time, the Count had 
bought a mansion on that street surrounded by 
gardens and having a seignorial look which flattered 
its new proprietor’s vanity. 

The first floor of that spacious house was, for the 
most part, one room panelled with oak and decorated 
with the heavy gilding such as is still to be seen in the 
old apartments of the Louvre. Other roôms opened 
around that one, one of which was Roland de Lem- 
brat’s bedchamber. 

Two days after the scenes just read of, the Count 
having dismissed his attendants, was pacing the floor 
of that room in great agitation. When he had walked 
all over the room, stopping occasionally and growling 
like a caged tiger, he seated himself at a table and be- 
gan to run cursorily over some papers. Then he 
seized a pen and made a line of figures with a pensive 
air, strange work for a gentleman of such gay and 
dissipated habits, as was Count Roland. What was 
he doing? He was simply calculating what his 
brother’s resurrection would cost him. 

His calculation ended, Roland ran his pen over the 
paper and buried his face in his hands. Evidently the 
solution of the problem he had been studying was not 
yet clear to his mind. 

“ Bah ! ” he cried, suddenly rising, and as if reply- 


94 


Captain Satan, or, 

ing to an inward thought: “To what purpose? I 
know something better than that ; when a knot can- 
not be undone, it should be cut.” 

The Count took the candlestick, shading the light 
with his hand ; he opened a door and entered a cor- 
ridor running along the main apartments. At the 
end of that corridor, he extinguished the light he was 
earning, raised a drapery and found himself in a 
small study, the floor of which was covered with a 
carpet that deadened the sound of his footsteps. 

Extending his hand, the Count walked on tiptoe to 
the wall and groped for a bolt sunk in the partition. 
The bolt found, he drew it out cautiously and applied 
his eye to the hole in which it fitted. This is what 
Count Roland then saw : 

A young man was standing in the next room; it 
was Manuel, it was Ludovic de Lembrat, installed in 
the mansion on rue Saint-Paul since the preceding 
day. An elegant costume of grey satin set off his 
handsome face and his haughty carriage admirably. 
There was no longer anything about his person to re- 
call the man of former days. Manuel had almost 
nothing to learn on entering his new condition. Bet- 
ter informed than the majority of the men of his day, 
he had instinctively adopted gallant manners and couid 
appear to advantage among them. 

In order to touch briefly upon his past and to con- 
nect it with the events which are about to follow, we 
will relate how the young man’s love for Gilberte de 
Faventines had its birth. It is a simple story, as old 
as man, yet ever new ! He had seen Gilberte once at 
her window, and like a visionary, like a poet, like a 
madman,— entrancing madness, — his soul and his eyes 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 95 

had drunk in the vision. To love was life ! Manuel 
loved. He cared not if the object of his love were far 
away or near him ; he saw her by stealth ; at night he 
stole along the walls, scaled her window to place a 
bouquet on the rails of the balcony, and went away. 

That was all. 

And he was happy, happy in the mystery, in the 
deep thrills experienced by him for the first time, in 
the chimera which filled his mind with doubtful 
dreams. He did not even know the name of his di- 
vinity. What one loves above all else in those sweet 
preludes of passion, is not the beloved, but Love with 
its charming uncertainties, with its great delights com- 
posed of a thousand rapturous nothings. 

How that Manuel could reason with himself, now 
that he was somebody, his vague sentiments began to 
assume a tangible form. Love to him was no longer 
an aimless power. Llis religion had an idol from 
which nothing could any longer separate him. He 
could hope, he could choose. 

Such at least was his belief, at the moment when 
Roland de Lembrat came to spy into the intimacy of 
his new life. 

The Count looked at Manuel. The young man was 
not alone, for he was talking animatedly. Roland 
sought the listener, whom at first he could not see, 
whom his brother was addressing, and espied Cyrano 
reclining in â large armchair, by the fireplace. 

Having made that discovery, the Count no longer 
thought of looking; he listened. The poet’s clear, 
rhythmical voice did not fail to reach his ear. 

“ So, my dear Ludovic,” said that voice, “ you are 
satisfied with your brother ? ” 


96 Captain Satan, or, 

“ Yery well satisfied ! he treats me with great kind- 
ness.” 

“ That is natural ; but, tell me ? . . 

“What?” 

“ Has he spoken to you of the main question ? ” 

“ What question ? ” 

“ Your fortune.” 

“ He has said nothing to me, and I have asked him 
nothing.” 

“ A reserve which does you honor ; however, it must 
be done.” 

“Why? My brother has welcomed me cordially; 
he has anticipated all my wishes ; I have nothing to 
ask.” 

“ Oh ! those poets ! ” smiled Cyrano, “ how cheaply 
they value life ! Fortunately, I am here.” 

“ What would you have ? ” 

“ Zounds ! I desire your independence to be assured, 
for you to be not under obligations to, but an equal of 
your brother, and for that. . . .” 

“ For that ? ” 

“ I shall turn to account your father’s will.” 

“ I beg of you, do not wound Eoland’s feelings.” 

“ Kest assured, I am referring only to the future. 
Eemain in the position your brother has given you 
for one or two months ; after that, we shall see.” 

“ That is it, let us wait ; there will always be time 
to raise those objectionable questions; moreover, I 
have more serious affairs.” 

“ What are they ? ” 

Manuel looked at Cyrano, then with a sigh, he said : 

“ Savinien, have you forgotten my love ? ” 

“ The devil ! ” said the poet, with a grimace, “ that 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 97 

is indeed where the shoe pinches. Your brother is 
ahead of you, my friend.” 

The Count paid the closest attention, for, as if they 
had an intuition of his espionage, the two men lowered 
their voices obviously. 

‘ 4 My brother ! ” repeated Manuel. “ Does he indeed 
love Mademoiselle de Faventines, or is the marriage 
but a matter of convenience ? ” 

“ He loves her, I believe ; it remains to be seen if 
she loves him ; for I do not think she does.” 

44 And then ? ” 

“ Then, there will be only the question of respect 
for the pledged word, and out of common decency 
you cannot think of asking your brother to give up 
his position.” 

4 4 That is true,” confessed Manuel, sadly, 44 1 am 
obliged to be silent. However. . . .” 

44 Finish. . . .” 

44 If Mademoiselle de Faventines herself. . . .” 

44 Presumptuous youth, have you guessed that she 
loves you ? ” 

44 Ho ; but is it not allowable for one who feels him- 
self threatened in that which he holds dearest, to cling 
to any hope ? ” 

44 Undoubtedly. One word, nevertheless. Shortly 
y pu will see Gilberte, for you and I cannot close the 
Faventines mansion against Yiscount de Lembrat as 
we would against the adventurer, Manuel.” 

44 Well?” 

44 When you see her, what will you do ? ” 

An uncontrollable tremor shook Manuel’s voice. 

44 To see her,” he said with a sort of ndvve fear, 44 to 


98 


Captain Satan, or, 

speak to her without offending her! I had not 
thought of that ! ” 

“ You must think of it ; come ! ” 

“Well,” replied Manuel, after a brief silence, “you 
may call me a culprit, an ingrate, disloyal ; but if I 
see Gilberte, if I speak to her, my first glance will be 
a gleam of passion, my first word a confession of love ; 
I feel it by my trembling hand, by my throbbing 
heart ; I shall not have the strength to keep my se- 
cret. I am a savage, you see, Savinien ; the garments 
I wear have not entirely changed me. If I cannot 
resist the voice that cries to me : 4 Love, go and cast 
your heart at that woman’s feet,’ if I am guilty of the 
cowardice of betraying my brother’s trust, I shall go 
to Roland and say to him : ‘ Drive me away, disown 
me, give me back my tatters and my poverty, forget 
that I exist, but do not ask me to renounce my love ! ’” 

“ And then ? ” coldly inquired Cyrano, without ap- 
pearing surprised at the quasi-fierce tone in which 
that declaration was made. 

“ Then ? ” continued Manuel, “ will not my name be 
left me ? ” 

“ That is a meagre fortune.” 

“ That will suffice for the king to accept me as one 
of his soldiers ; anything can be attained with courage 
and good will.” 

“ A cloak and a sword are very little, my dear, and 
the Faventines coat-of-arms are greatly in need of re- 
gilding.” 

Manuel was no longer listening. He was dreaming, 
he was building another air-castle. 

“It is late,” said Cyrano, rising, preparatory to 
taking his leave. “ You must reflect on all this ; the 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 99 

most prudent course, however, would he to forget 
all.” 

“ Mo ! ” returned Manuel, curtly. 

“After all,” concluded the poet, putting on his 
sword, “ come what may, you know that I wish you 
well.” 

“ I know enough,” thought Count Boland, leaving 
his point of observation to return to his room, “ secret 
warfare will not do away with that man, it takes a 
thunderbolt.” 

After that reflection, he rang the bell. A valet ap- 
peared. By the way in which he approached his 
master, it was easy to see that he was no servant of 
the ordinary kind. His face lighted up with a smile 
almost familiar ; it could be seen that he was one of 
those scoundrels who know themselves to be indis- 
pensable on certain occasions and whose scruples have 
passed into the state of legend. 

He calmly advanced and stood before his master, 
awaiting the question he was about to put to him. 

“ Kinaldo,” said the Count, “ do you remember 
what I said to you yesterday ? ” 

“If I remember aright, my lord spoke to me of his 
young brother’s arrival and of the slight unpleasant- 
ness it caused him.” 

“ I told you also that I should have need of you.” 

“ Here I am,” replied Binaldo, simply, not without 
a tinge of pride. 

“ In a week’s time,” continued Boland, “ there will 
be no other master here but me.” 

“ So soon ? ” said the confidant ; “ we agreed, it 
seems to me, my lord, that this would come later on.” 

“ I have changed my mind,” answered Boland, drily. 


100 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Then there remains to us only to find the means 
of ridding ourselves of the young man creditably.” 

“ Precisely.” 

“ We have first the definitive suppression ? ” 

“No, no blood ... at least not yet.” 

“ Denial of the proof ? ” 

“ Perhaps.” 

“The testimony of several excellent people whom I 
know.” 

“We will think about that; just at present you 
must accompany me. We must win over first of all 
the man who holds the secret of Manuel’s birth in 
his hands. As far as Cyrano, who has put this mat- 
ter in my way, is concerned, we shall see about that 
later.” 

“ Where are we going ? ” 

“ To the House of Cyclops.” 

Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, the Count 
and Rinaldo, both well-armed, arrived without acci- 
dent at Ben- J oël’s lodgings. 

When the bandit saw Roland de Lembrat, he 
smiled with supreme eloquence. 

“ I expected you, my lord,” said he. 

“You expected me, wherefore, I pray you?” 

“Because I have reflected and observed a great 
deal, my lord,” he replied, with bantering impudence. 

The three men shut themselves in Zilla’s room and 
held a long and mysterious conversation. When the 
Count left the House of Cyclops, day was breaking. 

Roland de Lembrat seemed radiant. Zilla, leaning 
on her window-sill, allowed the fresh morning air to 
fan her brow, while a smile not to be defined played 
about her parted lips. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 101 


XII. 

Boland was in no hurry to present his brother 
to the Marquis de Faven tines. But the latter put an 
end to the Count’s hesitation by coming in person to 
the home of the Lembrats to congratulate Manuel on 
his resurrection. That same evening the two brothers 
repaired to the Marquis’ mansion on his express invita- 
tion, and for the first time since the scene of the im- 
provisation, Manuel found himself in Gilberte’s pres- 
ence. 

“ Mademoiselle,” said Boland de Lembrat to the 
maiden, with a smile whose perfidious sweetness no 
one remarked, “ here is the audacious poet whom you 
so cleverly inspired the other day. He can now re- 
peat rhymes to you at his pleasure. He is no longer 
a stranger, he is my brother . . . yours,” he 

added, meaningly. 

Gilberte and Manuel looked at each other, and a 
brilliant flush suffused Mlle, de Faven tines’ face, 
while the young man stammered several words whose 
meaning he did not even know. 

That introduction gone through with, Boland left 
his brother and his fiancée tête-à-tëte, and seated him- 
self beside the Marchioness. It pleased him to play 
with fire thus, to give free scope to Manuel’s amorous 
enterprises. The possible results of that interview 
troubled him little. Did he not feel his power, and 
did he not now know that by one word, if he wished, 
he could fling his brother back into the gutter from 
which Cyrano had taken him ? 


102 Captain Satan, or, 

When the embarrassment which at first possessed him 
was dissipated, Manuel resolutely took his seat by the 
side of Gilberte and decided not to lose a moment in 
emerging from the position the delicacy of which 
Bergerac had clearly pointed out to him. Manuel, we 
have seen, had an impetuous nature, strangely com- 
posed of audacity and reserve; his mind had not, 
perhaps, the strength which circumstances required. 
On finding his brother again, he had promised him 
obedience, friendship and respect ; and now his love 
was already carrying him away and he no longer re- 
membered his promises. Thinking ho was doing 
sufficient in renouncing the benefits of his birth, he 
went, without scruples, where his heart led him. He 
was young, he was ignorant of the petty compromises 
current in the world, and above all, he loved madly. 
Who could have reproached him that that love 
reigned absolute in his mind ? 

“Mademoiselle,” said he to Gilberte, “ the great 
event which has taken place in my life has not caused 
me to forget the past. And, in that past, there is one 
thing for which I owe you an apology.” 

The young girl had almost looked for this. Never- 
theless she started ; then, remembering that she was 
no longer in the presence of the poor street-singer, but 
of a gentleman, her fiance’s brother, and that it was 
impossible for her to escape from the perilous con- 
versation, she hid her feelings beneath a grave, almost 
icy manner, and looked at Manuel as if in inquiry. 

“Yes,” resumed the latter, “I owe you an apology. 
When I was nobody, my boldness, great as it was, 
could not reach you ; now. . . .” 

As he hesitated, Gilberte repeated : 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 103 

“ Wow ? ” 

“ Now,” Manuel concluded, “ I feel that the gentle- 
man should apologize for the insult offered you by the 
adventurer.” 

“You have broken with your old life, sir; you 
should forget everything connected with it.” 

“ Forget ! ” exclaimed the young man. “ You ask 
of me the only thing it would be impossible for me to 
promise ; bid me humble myself before you, remind 
me of the respect I owe you, but do not require me to 
sacrifice my souvenirs.” 

Gilberte made no reply. 

“ See, mademoiselle,” went on Manuel, intoxicated 
by the sound of his own words and utterly dazzled by 
Gilberte’s radiant beauty, “ I must confess to you. 
When you know my whole life, you will perhaps have 
a word of kindness or of pity for me.” 

He spoke on, encouraged by his auditor’s silence ; 
he related all he had suffered, all he had dared. He 
told how at night he had stolen under the shadow of 
the walls of the Faventines mansion ; he explained the 
mystery of the bouquets, which blowed daily at 
Gilberte’s window ; he related all his dreams, all his 
vain hopes, all his poetical and lover-like madness. 

As she listened, Gilberte felt her heart melt within 
her breast and her breath come in gasps. She forgot 
her father, she forgot Eoland, she forgot every- 
thing. 

The sight of Eoland aroused the young couple from 
their painful and yet delightful situation. The Count 
had been there a minute, watching them with eyes 
that shot fire. 

That night, Manuel left the Marquis’ salon and en- 


104 Captain Satan, or, 

tered his apartments, without recovering from the 
rapturous trance into which his conversation with 
Gilberte had plunged him. Yiscount Ludovic visited 
the Faventines mansion daily after that. 

The rest can be imagined. Manuel and Gilberte 
loved each other. The confession of that love escaped 
their lips almost ere they were aware of it ; the future 
was now before them full of trouble and menace. 

In about a week after his visit to the House of 
Cyclops, — matters being at the point of which we have 
just made mention, — Count Eoland de Lembrat invited 
his future father-in-law, together with Mme. de 
Faventines and Gilberte, to be present at a fete he 
proposed giving the day after the morrow. 

“ I suppose you have no objection,” he concluded, 
“ to my inviting M. J ean de Lamothe, your erudite 
friend, to this reunion.” 

“ The grand provost ! ” exclaimed Gilberte’s father. 
“ Why ! my dear Count, you know quite well that he 
does not take pleasure in our profane orgies.” 

“ Never mind, he will come, and I promise you he 
will fill his place well at Hôtel de Lembrat,” said the 
Count, with a smile, which, in spite of himself, 
wandered toward Manuel. 

The fete of which Eoland had just spoken was not 
to be an impromptu affair. Einaldo had made active 
preparations and all was ready when his master gave 
out his invitations. On the morning of the eventful 
day, Ben- Joël received a note containing simply these 
words : 

“ To-night.” 

While the plot to destroy him was being planned 
in the shade, Manuel dressed for the fete , humming a 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 105 

love-song in which the name of Gilberte was constantly 
occurring like a sweet refrain. 

Roland de Lembrat undoubtedly had many friends, 
for a brilliant gathering crowded his salons. To this 
especial soiree , he had bidden the elite of court and 
city. It was rather stifling, a condition indispensable 
to the success of an entertainment. 

The first face which the Marquis de Faventines per- 
ceived, on entering the drawing-room, was that of M. 
Jean de Lamothe. The grand provost looked graver 
and stiffer than his costume. 

“ You here ? ” said the Marquis to him, gaily, “ you 
the savant, you the sage, in the midst of this frivolous 
throng ? ” 

“ Justice is everywhere, Marquis,” replied the old 
man, solemnly. 

“ I know it ; it is not, however, the judge but the 
friend I meet here, I believe ? ” 

“ Both, Marquis.” 

“You are very serious to-night; have you still a 
grudge against Bergerac, and, knowing that you 
would find him here, have you come to convict him 
of magic, of heresy and of contempt against re- 
ligion ? ” 

“Mo ! but Bergerac’s turn will come, I have no 
doubt.” 

“Very well! And whose turn has come, if you 
please ? We are all here for our pleasure ; we are 
celebrating the presence of Ludovic de Lembrat, we 
are sharing his brother’s happiness; are we unwit- 
tingly, my dear friend, treading on serpents, or does 
the Count’s house conceal conspirators ? ” 

“ Mo,” replied Jean de Lamothe, drily. 


106 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Then I cannot understand you.” 

The grand provost leaned toward the Marquis’ ear 
and uttered several words in a low voice. 

M. de Faventines, on the receipt of that confidence, 
let his arms fall at his sides, and said, in great stupe- 
faction : 

“ Bah ! is it possible ? ” 

“ It is, as I have the honor to tell you. Count de 
Lembrat has informed me ; I shall do my duty to the 
end.” 

“ Strange ! strange ! ” murmured the Marquis, mov- 
ing off on the grand provost’s arm. 

Just as the two men passed through the door of the 
first salon , they saw Gilberte advancing, escorted by 
Manuel. 

The Marquis started as if to run toward the young 
man and to snatch his daughter from him, but Jean 
de Lamothe restrained him, saying : 

“ Control your feelings ; it is not yet time.” 

Manuel and Gilberte passed and took their seats at 
a window opening on the grounds. The night was 
clear and warm, vague perfumes filled the air, in the 
depths of the group of trees could be heard voices and 
bursts of laughter. 

“ So you confess it,” said Manuel, to whom the 
story of the commencement of his love was an in- 
exhaustible theme, “ you recognized me ? ” 

“ From the first moment ; a divination, no doubt.” 

“ Ah ! you will make me proud, Gilberte. What ! 
you loved me, the poor Bohemian, the street-poet, in 
spite of prejudices, in spite of the world ? ” 

“And in spite of myself, Ludovic. Yes! I have 
suffered, assured that nothing could reunite us, and I 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 107 

agreed to live, sacrificed perhaps, but guarding, as a 
consolation, the memory of my first emotion.” 

“ Dear Gilberte ! When may I proclaim my happi- 
ness aloud?” 

“ When you shall have the courage to tell the Count 
the truth sincerely, as I shall tell it to my father.” 

“ Boland ! that is true, I had forgotten him. I al- 
ways forget him. Why was it necessary that on giv- 
ing me a relative God should present to me the cruel 
alternative of choosing between ingratitude and un- 
happiness ! ” 

“ God should not be accused here, Ludovic.” 

“ Who, then?” 

“ Myself. I did not have the courage to resist my 
father’s wishes, although I did not love the Count. 
But, now, I shall speak.” 

“ And my brother ? ” 

“ Your brother is too loyal and too just to be dis- 
pleased with you on account of my feelings.” 

“ Let us live in the present, Gilberte.” 

“ Let us live in the present and let us hope in the 
future.” 

Cyrano had just entered ; he saw the two lovers 
and joined them. 

A few moments later, Count Boland appeared in 
his turn. After receiving the majority of his guests, 
he withdrew to his room for an instant, where he held 
a hurried conference with Binaldo. 

“ All is ready,” the latter said to him. 

The Count approached Savinien de Cyrano with 
alacrity. 

“ Ha ! ” said he, “ you are late ; we were awaiting 
only you to have the entertainment,” 


108 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ What entertainment ? ” 

“ A little music, a little ballet.” 

Then to Gilberte, he said : 

“Behold, Mademoiselle, you are the queen of this 
fete , and I am your humble servant. Shall I give 
the signal ? ” 

“ Certainly ! ” said Gilberte, eagerly. 

The Count clapped his hands. A curtain stretched 
from one of the corners of the salon was raised, and 
musicians seated on a small platform played the open- 
ing measures of an air de ballet. The curtain when 
raised disclosed to view a stage on which some Italian 
dancers, then the rage in Paris, were about to appear. 

The entertainment was short ; it was only the pro- 
logue to the comedy being prepared. 

“ It is charming,” said Cyrano. “ You are a man of 
taste, my dear Roland.” 

“ Am I not ? ” replied the Count, ironically. “ Oh ! 
I have a number of other surprises for you.” 

At that moment, Rinaldo’s fantastic form was seen 
in the frame of a door. The rogue was carrying a 
tray of refreshments ; he was followed by other serv- 
ants, performing the same office. For the occasion he 
had assumed an honest, decent and almost innocent 
air. 

“ See ! ” cried Cyrano, “ is not that that knave of a 
Rinaldo, who lived at Fougerolles when we were chil- 
dren, friend Roland ? ” 

“ It is,” replied Roland. 

At the same time he cast a significant glance at the 
provost, as if to call his attention to what was taking 
place. The provost gravely inclined his head, in token 
of comprehension. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 109 

By some fortuitous coincidence, or perhaps in conse- 
quence of a clever manoeuvre on the part of Roland, 
all the principal personages in the assemblage were 
grouped around him. 

Rinaldo went around the circle, respectfully offer- 
ing his tray, and was not long in reaching Manuel. 
But, instead of offering him the refreshments, he be- 
gan to stare at him, as if deeply absorbed in thought. 

“Well, why do you look at me thus, my friend?” 
asked the young man. 

Rinaldo started and played his rôle of one surprised 
in a fault, marvelously well. The tray slipped from 
his hands, and the crystal was shivered into atoms on 
the floor. That noise had the effort of attracting the 
majority of the guests toward the point where the 
scene was being enacted. The Count had the audi- 
ence he desired. 

“ Clumsy fellow ! ” he said to Rinaldo. 

The man bore the epithet without wincing, and, 
drawing near his master, he spoke several words rap- 
idly. 

“ Do you know, brother,” asked Roland de Lembrat, 
in a loud voice, “ do you know what caused the man’s 
confusion ? ” 

“ Tell me, I pray you,” replied Manuel, calmly. 

“Well ! he claims that he knows you.” 

“ It is possible. As for me, I do not know him.” 

“Yes, he claims to,” persisted Roland, “and he 
adds. . . .” 

“He adds? . . ” 

“ That you are not my brother.” 

A quick stir of curiosity was noticeable in the 
throng. The aristocratic assemblage scented a scan- 


110 


Captain Satan, or, 

dal. Manual seemed stunned. However, he regained 
his self-possession, and attempting to smile, he stam- 
mered : 

“ Your servants are jokers, forsooth ! ” 

“ Ah ! there is a viper under the rock,” murmured 
Bergerac. 

Rinaldo was standing erect in the centre of the 
group. Manuel approached him, and laying his hand 
on his shoulder, looking into his eyes, he said to him : 
“ Come, my friend, look at me well, and tell me who I 
am, if I am not Yiscount Ludovic.” 

The valet seemed embarrassed. 

“With due deference, my lord,” he ventured, “you 
are Simon Vidal.” 

“Simon Vidal, the son of the de Lembrat’s gar- 
dener ! ” sneered Cyrano. “ By God ! that is a singular 
claim ! ” 

“Yes,” reiterated Einaldo, “little Simon, who was 
lost the same day that our poor master’s second son 
was.” 

Cyrano shrugged his shoulders, and, turning toward 
Manuel, said : 

“ That man is mad ; you need not answer him.” 

“ Desist ; it is essential that every one should wit- 
ness my sincerity.” 

And again addressing Roland’s valet, he said : 

“Your memory is either very good or very oblig- 
ing, rogue ! By what do you recognize Simon Vidal, 
who was five years old when he disappeared ? ” 

“ Bah ! ” objected Rinaldo, “ I was his age, and I can 
see all his features in yours, which I have been study- 
ing for the past week. Moreover, if any doubt re- 
mained, a certain detail would remove it. One day, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. Ill 

when playing with Simon, I cut his forehead with a 
stone I threw at him. The wound was large and 
deep, my faith ! ” 

And Rinaldo, pointing his linger at Manuel’s brow, 
added calmly : 

“ There is the scar.” 

At those words, a murmur ran through the throng. 

“ Miserable wretch ! ” cried Manuel, “ you have been 
paid to spread such calumny. Brother, in the name 
of truth, send away this man.” 

Roland sneered contemptuously. His turn had 
come to speak in the clearly infamous scene. 

“ Down with the mask, sir ! ” he replied ; “ this man 
has spoken the truth ; you have deceived me for eight 
days.” 

“What dods he say?” whispered Gilberte, who 
witnessed the scene in a sort of stupor. 

“ Beware of what you do, Roland ! ” suddenly inter- 
posed Cyrano, without giving his protege time to an- 
swer. 

“Cease, Bergerac; for three days I have known 
that he who styles himself my brother is an impostor ; 
for three days I have controlled my anger. A serv- 
ant’s testimony is insignificant, I know full well ; 
but, by means of inquiries, of questions and of threats, 
I have collected other testimony more fatal. Certain 
of trapping the culprit, I allowed him to remain in his 
false security ; I wished to confound the wretch in the 
midst of the fete, before the eyes of that world that 
saw me receive him with open arms. The verification 
has been startling and public; the punishment shall 
be startling and public in its turn.” 

Manuel instinctively took refuge near Cyrano. 


112 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Savinien ! Savinien ! ” he murmured, in despair, 
“ defend me, for I can find nothing to say.” 

Cyrano was ready with a reply. 

“ Ah ! you are playing a terrible part, Count de Lem- 
brat,” said he. “ Think of it : the proofs of Ludovic’s 
identity exist, and I have a weapon in my hands, the 
value of which you do not know : your father’s will.” 

“You have been deceived as we all have, Cyrano: 
this man is not a de Lembrat ; he has taken advantage 
of and abused your first impulse ; and you, in not be- 
ing sufficiently mistrustful of a spontaneous impres- 
sion, have encouraged the deceit of which I am the 
victim.” 

All this was uttered with extreme composure. Ro- 
land de Lembrat was certainly a formidable adver- 
sary. 

“But,” persisted Cyrano, boiling over with rage, 
“ what of Ludovic’s resemblance to the Count ? The 
written proof ? ” 

“ I have nothing more to say,” concluded Roland, 
coldly. “ I have denounced the intrigue, it is the prov- 
ost’s business to see that justice is done.” 

“ Ah ! the provost is in the combination, is he ? I 
must compliment you, Roland, you have prearranged 
everything carefully.” 

The provost advanced, and, with a satisfaction 
which he did not take pains to conceal, he said : 

“Yes, sir, all has been prearranged. Nothing es- 
capes the judge’s eye, do you hear ? Nothing ! Think 
of that. For three days, on M. de Lembrat’s infor- 
mation, I have been working to demolish what you 
have erected ; I have secured and examined your ac- 
complices.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 113 

“ My accomplices ! ” growled Cyrano. “ Great 
God ! provost, take heed of your tongue, if you do 
not desire a quarrel ! ” 

Jean de Lamothe prudently retreated before a men- 
acing gesture on the part of the irascible author of 
the Voyage à la Lune. 

“ Softly, softly, M. de Bergerac,” he ventured once 
at a respectful distance, “ I am not a duelist ! My 
name is not Captain Satan. I am about to prove to 
you clearly that Count de Lembrat has just acted ac- 
cording to his duty.” 

“ What are you about to do ? ” 

“ To produce witnesses ! ” 

“ What witnesses ? ” 

“ The Bohemian Ben- Joël and his sister.” 

“ Ben- Joel ! ” exclaimed Manuel. “ I am saved.” 

Cyrano uttered an exclamation of anger : 

“ Simpleton, do you understand nothing ? ” 

Indeed, Manuel understood nothing; he did not 
suspect the depth of the abyss toward which he was 
being dragged. 

The door opened, Ben- Joël and Zilla appeared, 
Manuel moved forward as if he would go to meet 
them ; then, suddenly looking at them, he started, 
paused and turned exceedingly pale. 

Ben-Joël’s face was as cloudy as a rainy sky ; Zilla’s 
like marble. 

At that moment Manuel realized that he was indeed 
lost, On the other hand, Cyrano seemed to meet his 
fate patiently. He seated himself with great sang- 
froid, and watched the proceedings. 


114 


Captain Satan, or, 


XIII. 

The two adventurers paused on the threshold. 

“ Advance and speak freely.” 

Ben- Jo el cast a circular glance at the attentive as- 
semblage, as he slowly advanced to the table at which 
Jean de Lamothe was seated, and replied in a very 
humble tone : 

“ILis lordship the provost knows having already 
confessed my wrong to him, I need no longer fear his 
severity.” 

“¥e shall see. Do you know this man ? ” 

The Bohemian turned toward Ludovic, pointed out 
to him by the provost : 

“ Yes,” he said, simply ; “ it is Manuel, my compan- 
ion.” 

“ Very well, that frankness will be credited to you. 
Xow tell these gentlemen, as you have told me, the 
reason which determined you to pass off this Manuel 
for young Ludovic de Lembrat.” 

“ Yes, knave,” interposed Boland, “ tell us that ; for 
I especially have been the dupe of your dishonesty.” 

The bandit began in a light tone : 

“ Ah, my lord, my fault is very pardonable. Chance 
brought me into the presence of M. de Bergerac, and 
M. de Bergerac believing by certain signs to recognize 
Yiscount Ludovic de Lembrat in Manuel, I profited 
by his good intentions to make the fortune of one of 
my brothers, a fortune in which I w r ould not fail to 
have my share, for Manuel is no ingrate.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 115 

Ludovic, overwhelmed with astonishment, began to 
doubt himself in the face of Ben- Joel’s explanations. 

“It is a diabolical machination,” interjected Jean de 
Lamothe. 

Cyrano, who had not stirred up to that time, rose 
at the Bohemian’s last words, and, planting himself 
before him, he asked : 

“ Who are you deceiving here, accursed Egyptian ? 
This requires an explanation.” 

Zilla’s brother bowed with rather satirical humility 
before his interrogator and replied : 

“ It is the truth, pure and simple, sir.” 

“ You lie ! ” at that juncture cried Ludovic, shaking 
off his torpor. “ Have you not the proof of my origin 
in your hands ? ” 

“ Yes,” maintained Cyrano, “the declaration written 
in old Joel’s family-book. Remember that fact, prov- 
ost.” 

Jean de Lamothe smiled maliciously, and asked : 

“ M. de Bergerac, have you seen the book you men- 
tion ? ” 

“Ho.” 

The provost shrugged his shoulders, and turning to 
Ludovic, inquired : 

“ At least you have seen it ? ” 

“ I have not seen it,” confessed the young man, bow- 
ing his head, “but it was spoken of so often before 
me, when I was not interested in it, that I cannot 
doubt its existence.” 

“You have not seen the book,” remarked the prov- 
ost, without heeding Ludovic’s observation; “the 
book does not exist.” 

In his turn Cyrano’s mind became troubled. One 


116 


Captain Satan, or, 

second sufficed for him to conquer that feeling ; he 
was sure of Ludovic’s identhy, and reproached himself 
for his sense of hesitation, although it was excusable 
in so singular an adventure. Again, he approached 
Ben- Joël, whose wily villainy he appreciated for the 
first time, and shaking him roughly by his arm, he 
asked, not wishing to believe the provost’s allega- 
tion : 

“ Is this true ? ” 

“ It is ! ” 

Boland was triumphant. Bone of the elements of 
success on which he had relied failed him at that de- 
cisive moment. 

“You see, gentlemen,” he sneered, addressing his 
guests, “ on what a wretched foundation that tissue of 
lies rested. I acted like a fool in the affair : I was 
satisfied with a vagabond’s word of honor. Fortu- 
nately, all can easily be amended, and my credulity 
will not have cost me too dear.” 

“ Oh ! Savinien,” murmured Ludovic, outstretching 
his hands to his friend, “ accursed be the day on which 
you took me from my ignorance ! ” 

“ There is still another question,” resumed the prov- 
ost at that moment, anxious to pursue his inquiries, 
and abruptly calling the attention of Ben- Joël and 
those assembled, to himself. . “You know the story of 
the kidnapping of Ludovic and of Simon Yidal, the 
son of the gardener of the de Lembrats ? ” 

Ben- Joel inclined his head in token of assent. 

“ Then he whom you call Manuel here, is who ? ” 

“ He is Simon Yidal.” 

“ But the stolen child ? Ludovic ? ” 

“ Ludovic ! ” said the Bohemian, in a faltering voice, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 117 

“ he died at the age of eight, in my father’s camp. 
That is all I know, my lord.” 

“You should know something else.” 

“What?” 

“You should know,” insinuated the judge, “if 
your friend Manuel was a sharer in your ambitious 
plans.” 

The adventurer hesitated. He was inspired by an 
impulse of honesty; at that moment Zilla’s voice 
whispered these words : 

“Do not ruin him.” 

At the same time, Count de Lembrat, passing him 
by, murmured : 

“ Remember.” 

Placed thus between two opposing influences, the 
Bohemian was rather perplexed. He had everything 
to gain by protecting Roland’s interests, yet he did 
not Avant to displease Zilla, who, by one word, could 
mar all. 

“ Answer,” rebuked the provost ; “ was Manuel the 
confidant, the accomplice of your projects ? ” 

That peremptory question Avas like the grain of 
sand Avhich suffices to turn the scale. It served to 
turn Joel’s mind into the channel hurtful to Ludo\ T ic’s 
vindication. 

“Yes,” he replied, “Manuel Avas my accomplice.” 

“Miserable Avretch,” roared the Yiscount, beside 
himself, “ you are lying again, you lie all the time ! 
Oh ! Zilla ! my sister, my dear Zilla, tell them that 
they are mistaken in their judgment ! You knoAV me, 
you know that I am incapable of such fraud ! ” 

Zilla had froAvned Avhen the accusing Avords escaped 
her brother’s lips ; Avhen Ludovic, hoAvever, addressed 


118 


Captain Satan, or, 

her, her face resumed its rigidity, and in a cold voice 
without raising her eyes, she replied : 

“I never knew anything about my brother’s and 
your plans ; I have no one to accuse, no one to de- 
fend.” 

Then, in the depths of her heart, she thought : “ He 
has fallen low enough ; he may love me now.” 

Ludovic was on the point of speaking, but the prov- 
ost imposed silence, by saying severely : 

“ Manuel, you are accused and convicted, it seems 
to me, of having usurped the name and the titles of 
Viscount Ludovic de Lembrat ; you will await the 
decision of the law in the châtelet .” 

At a signal from Jean de Lamothe, the door again 
opened, admitting an officer, followed by several 
soldiers. 

“ In prison ! ” cried Cyrano, violently. “ Ah ! By 
God ! that is going too far.” 

“ Silence ! ” commanded the provost. 

To the officer : 

“ Do your duty.” 

The executor of the provost’s orders advanced to 
Ludovic and demanded his sword of him. 

The young man, driven to desperation, flung him- 
self into Cyrano’s arms ; repressing the tears of anger 
and of shame which rose to his burning eyes, he 
slowly drew his sword and gave it to Savinien, not 
wishing to hand it to the officer himself. Cyrano was 
calm again ; he addressed the officer in a quiet voice, 
tendering him Ludovic’s sword with a gesture almost 
courteous. 

“ This weapon,” said he, “ is that of a gentleman, no 
matter what they say of him. Beceive it, therefore, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 119 

sir, with respect. As for you, provost,” he continued, 
quite cavalierly, “ I would say to you that I have 
not spoken my final words, if you have yours.” 

He then pressed Manuel’s hand. 

“ Go without fear, my boy,” he concluded ; “ go to 
your purgatory; I am free, and I hold the keys of 
Paradise.” 

After those puzzling words, Ludo vic’s strange friend 
turned on his heel, to the amazement of Poland and 
the provost, who were surprised to see him accept the 
result of the adventure so philosophically. 

Meanwhile Ludovic had drawn near Gilberte. 

“ Adieu, mademoiselle,” said he in a broken voice. 
“ Forget me, my life is ended.” 

A sob choked him. He feared it would escape him ; 
he was afraid of appearing cowardly, and, like a mad- 
man, he rushed out of the salon without looking at 
any one, and closely followed by the officer and the 
soldiers. 

“ Ah ! father,” murmured Gilberte, rushing into the 
Marquis de Faventines’ arms, “ I love him ! I love 
him ! ” 

“Unhappy girl, be silent,” said the old man, “your 
tears are an insult to the Count.” 

The maiden rose, cold, resolute, inexorable : 

“ The Count ! What matters that to me ? I shall 
not wed him.” 

It was now the Marquis’ turn to oppose the will 
which asserted itself so boldly against his. 

“ You shall wed him,” he replied ; “ I have promised, 
I desire it.” 

Whilst Gilberte was borne away in a swoon, and 
whilst Ben- Joël wisely withdrew with Zilla, under tliQ 


12a 


Captain Satan, or, 

conduct of Rinaldo, he whom they called Captain 
Satan, and who during that entire scene had seemed 
so indifferent to the protection of his reputation, hav- 
ing remained almost completely passive, Cyrano, we 
say, leaned toward Roland de Lembrat, and, smiling, 
said to him : 

“Yon have just struck a fine blow, but wait until 
you see the parry and thrust ! ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 121 


XIY. 

Count de Lembrat rose. 

“ My dear Cyrano,” he said, “ I can appreciate your 
vexation, hut I cannot help it ; spare me an explana- 
tion for which I care little, or a vindication which 
would not convince me.” 

“You have anticipated my thoughts; a little pa- 
tience, Roland. I do not desire to speak to you in the 
presence of your friends. You will thank me later 
for that reserve.” 

“ I will thank you ? ” scoffed the Count. 

“Yes ; but, believe me, let it rest there for the pres- 
ent. Soon you will be at liberty, and we can then 
talk freely ... if you consent to that.” 

“ If you like, I will take leave of my guests.” 

“No, I am in no haste ; I will wait.” 

An hour later, the salons of Hôtel de Lembrat were 
empty. Ludo vic’s arrest had put an end to the fete , , 
and every one had taken advantage of the opportu- 
nity for a prompt retreat. 

“ Come with me,” then said Roland to Cyrano, “ we 
shall be able to talk better here.” 

Rinaldo, who had just returned, took a candlestick 
and preceded the two men. When they reached 
Roland’s apartment, the latter dismissed his valet. 

“ Are we quite alone ? ” inquired Cyrano. 

“ Yes ; but why this mystery ? ” 

“The matters I have to confide to you must be 
heard by you alone, Your dignity demands it,” 


122 


Captain Satan, or, 

“My dignity?” 

“ Your dignity and your amour-jpropre. It is there- 
fore in your interest that I ask you to avoid all indis- 
cretion, for, for my part, especially after what has just 
happened, I care little for the curious who might hide 
behind the draperies in your room.” 

“Who would spy upon us? Whom do you sus- 
pect ? ” 

“Rinaldo, who seems to me to share your confi- 
dence.” 

“Rest assured, no one can overhear our conversa- 
tion. Speak. What have you to say to me ? ” 

The expression of Cyrano’s face, up to that time 
very placid, suddenly changed. His eyes lighted up, 
his lips curled scornfully, and in a firm voice he spoke 
these words : 

“ By Cod ! First of all, I would tell you that you 
are a rascal ! ” 

Roland rose, goaded by sudden fury. 

“Sir!” 

Cyrano seized his arm, and, pressing it vigorously, 
said : 

“ Softly, Count, do not get angry ; you have lost 
the right to do so.” 

“ Such an insult ! ” Roland again exclaimed. “ Are 
you intoxicated, Bergerac ? ” 

“You know very well,” corrected Cyrano, “that I 
do not drink wine. Therefore I am not intoxicated ; 
you, however, are afraid, and you are trying to reas- 
sure yourself.” 

“Afraid? Of what should I be afraid, I beg of 
you ? ” 

“Of your own deeds. You know that I intend 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 128 

to save Ludovic, and that to save him, is to ruin 
you.” 

“ Manuel again ? ” cried the Count, in a disdainful 
tone. “Am I to be annoyed by that subject con- 
stantly ? ” 

“ Plague on it ! you are exacting, and you have sen- 
sitive ears, sir. See here, you are awkward ; the mat- 
ter is as clear as spring-water, you wished to rid your- 
self of the burden imposed upon you by your brother’s 
return, and you planned a ridiculous farce, forgetting 
that I was there to modify the characters. Had I 
wished just now, I could have made you cry for mercy 
before all, I could have made you shed tears of blood 
at your treachery.” 

“ You?” 

“ I. You know very well that Manuel, that Ludovic 
is your brother, do you not ? What is the use to dis- 
simulate ? JSTo one can hear us.” 

“ For God’s sake, Bergerac, let us put an end to this. 
This conversation annoys me.” 

“ It depends only on you to cut it short.” 

“How?” 

“ Acknowledge the truth ! Do justice to Ludovic ! ” 

“ Ludovic is dead ! ” 

“ Ah ! you know better than that. You have bribed 
the rogue they call Ben- J oël, and for a handful of 
pistoles he has but repeated the lesson you taught him.” 

“You will answer to me for these insults, Bergerac.” 

“As soon as you like after our conversation is 
finished. You have the book which contains the 
proof of Ludo vic’s identity ; come, confess it ? ” 

“Ben-Joël declared before you that the book never 
existed.” 


124 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ It does exist. You have not it in your possession, 
I willingly admit, for the bandit is so cunning he 
would not entrust his valuables to the grasp of the 
devil. In that case, I will have the book myself.” 

Roland began to smile. 

“ Willing or not, I will have it, you may depend 
upon it,” repeated Cyrano. 

Those words were uttered with such energetic con- 
viction, that the smile froze on the Count’s lips. 

“That statement having been made,” continued 
Cyrano, “ we will now, if you please, speak of your- 
self a little, for that is what I stayed for.” 

“ Of myself ? ” 

“ Yes, the time has come to tell you a short story, 
so interesting, my faith, to the de Lembrat family, 
that your father took the trouble to write it out at 
length.” 

“ I know nothing of the writing.” 

“ I should have liked never to have had you know 
of it. But extreme remedies for great ills.” 

“What preliminaries! Would not one think you 
were about to pronounce my sentence ? ” 

“ Who knows ! ” scoffed Cyrano. 

Then with a good nature which accentuated the 
irony of his smile, he said : 

“Take a seat, Roland. I believe you are trem- 
bling ? ” 

“Thank you,” replied the Count, drily, pushing 
away with his knee the seat offered him. 

“ As you like. Listen. My story, I have no doubt, 
will altogether modify your ideas.” 

Roland shrugged his shoulders and made a gesture 
of impatience. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 125 

“I will commence,” said the poet. “ Count de 
Lembrat, your father,” — and Cyrano purposely em- 
phasized the last word, — “ was a man very jealous of 
the celebrity of his race and very desirous of perpet- 
uating his ancestor’s glorious name, — a noble ambition 
after all ! However, after ten years of wedded life, 
the Count’s wife had not yet presented him with an 
heir. The most skilful physicians, summoned to 
Chateau de Fougerolles, finally declared that Mme. 
de Lembrat would never have the happiness of becom- 
ing a mother. They had to be resigned : the name of 
de Lembrat would die out. This is beginning to in- 
terest you, is it not ? ” 

“ Continue,” said Boland, curtly. 

“ The name of de Lembrat would die out, and the 
entire province lamented the fact, when, contrary to 
all probability, the Count joyfully proclaimed the 
pregnancy of his wife. Several months later, a son 
was baptized. But, do you know whence came that 
son, who was to enjoy all the luxuries of a prince ? 
From the hovel of a sheep-shearer, one of the Count’s 
poor tenants, named Jacques le Cornier.” 

“ Absurd fable ! ” said the Count. 

“ It is not a fable, it is a story true to facts, written 
by your father, and signed by his hand. Count de 
Lembrat, strifling his pride, wished to force fate. He 
said to himself : ‘ My family name shall yet shine in 
the world ; I will have a son in spite of God and of 
nature.’ And, in secret he bought the shearer’s child, 
sent the father and mother away, they died afterward 
in Italy, and forced himself to forget that his blood 
did not flow in the veins of the newborn. That child 
was Boland de Lembrat, was you ! ” 


126 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Infamy ! ” cried Roland, exasperated, “ you in- 
sult my father’s memory ! ” 

“ The blow is hard to bear,” continued Cyrano, 
tranquilly. “ I agree to that. There is quite a gulf 
between a noble Count and a miserable sheep-shearer. 
You must become reconciled to it. I will finish. — 
Five years after the arrival of the false son, contrary 
to the decision of science, the Countess became en- 
ceiate and gave birth to Ludovic, ... to Manuel, 
if that name is more familiar to you. You can im- 
agine the state of affairs. The Count’s embarrass- 
ment, remorse, reproaches ! Well! the folly was com- 
mitted, it must be made the best of! The Count 
raised the two children, intending to think about the 
matter later on. You know the rest. Ludovic was 
stolen by Joel’s band, and the Count despairing of 
ever finding him, had at least the consolation before 
dying of thinking that his name would survive in you. 
But as, after all, Ludovic might reappear, he wrote 
the confession I have just repeated to you and con- 
fided the care of the important document to me, for 
it also contains the expression of his last wishes.” 

Roland looked at the speaker with astonishment 
he did not seek to disguise. 

“You may rest easy,” added Bergerac; “in the 
document it simply requires, after giving the details 
relative to your position, that you return to Ludovic 
half of the family fortune. Count de Lembrat was a 
just man ; he did not wish to remove you from the 
position in which he had placed you ; he did not wish 
to make you answer for a fraud of which you were 
innocent.” 

“ Oh ! you are a demon ! ” exclaimed Roland, “ you 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 127 

are trifling with my credulity. How can I believe 
that my father acted as you say, and, if he did, how 
can I be positive that he left a written testimony of 
his deceit ? ” 

“ That writing exists, I give you my word of honor.” 

“ Show it to me.” 

“ Unfortunately, I have not it. Fearing some acci- 
dent to myself, I entrusted it to the hands of a friend. 
Should I die, those hands will know perfectly well 
how to make use of the treasure they hold.” 

Those words, which removed the menace of immedi- 
ate danger and exposed the statements to doubt, re- 
stored Roland’s assurance. 

“ Then,” he asked, “ what shall you do ? ” 

“Nothing, if you consent to recognize Ludovic’s 
rights : if you persist in refusing what I ask, I will go 
for and publicly produce Count de Lembrat’s will.” 

“ Come, Cyrano, confess that you relied on your 
cunning, which is nothing compared to your boldness, 
to make me acknowledge an imaginary act of treach- 
ery. I am ready to give you satisfaction, sword in 
hand, for what I have just said to you ; but I do not 
believe in my father’s pretended confession.” 

“ You do not believe it ? ” 

“ No, for if it be true, if it had not been an ingen- 
ious story invented by your poetical brain, you would 
not have spared me just now, you would have declared 
my lowly birth before all and have saved Manuel 
from prison.” 

“ I allowed Ludovic to go to prison, because it was 
necessary.” 

“ Necessary ? ” repeated the Count, perplexed. 

“ Indispensable to his safety.” 


128 Captain Satan, or, 

“ I do not understand yon.” 

“ I understand, that is enough. Oh ! I have learned 
to know you, Count Eoland. To have freed Manuel, 
whilst I should have gone after your father’s will, 
would have been to expose him to some adventure. A 
dagger blow is quickly given. It is better for Manuel 
to be in prison. His imprisonment will save you from 
temptation and will perhaps spare you the remorse of 
a crime.” 

“ Do you think me capable of murder ? ” 

“ After what I have seen,” declared Cyrano, “ I be- 
lieve you capable of anything.” 

“ Oh ! this time,” thundered the Count, “ you shall 
make me reparation ! ” 

“ I do not wish to fight with you,” said Cyrano. “ I 
have a more serious aim to pursue. The declaration 
calls forth no shame: I have my proofs. Then, 
moreover, I should kill you, and, my faith, you would 
be out of the way ! ” 

Eoland’s clenched fist struck the table at his side 
furiously; his adversary’s mocking sang-froid over- 
whelmed him. 

“ Very well,” said he, between his teeth ; “go, I do 
not fear you. I shall be able to render your attacks 
powerless.” 

“ Are those your final words ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ So much the worse for you, in this case. With 
Ben- J oël’s book, with your father’s testament, I shall 
have weapons to overthrow you.” 

“ Oh ! as for the book, you shall not have it ! ” 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” cried Cyrano, triumphantly, “ then you 
at last confess that it exists ! ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 129 

Roland bit his lips until they bled, seeing too late 
the mistake he had made. He was about to reply, 
but Cyrano prevented him. 

“I know enough,” he said, preparing to leave; 
“ now, to work. Firsts Ben- Joël ; then, you.” 


130 


Captain Satan, or, 


XV. 

When Cyrano had left the Count’s room, the latter 
for an instant stood there motionless, considering the 
gravity of his situation. He knew Cyrano too well 
to doubt his word. The revelation just made to him 
roused his pride and laid before his eyes the depth of 
humiliation into which one indiscreet word from Ber- 
gerac could plunge him. The thought of Manuel’s 
deliverance was the moment effaced from his mind ; 
personal matters required all the resources of his in- 
telligence. At any price the scandal of a public ex- 
posure must be avoided ; Cyrano must be stopped, and 
rendered incapable of harming him. 

That resolution made, Roland, not very scrupulous 
as to the choice of means, summoned Rinaldo. The 
latter, who served the Count’s interests so well, came 
in immediately. 

“ Is your lordship ill ? ” he asked, remarking the 
change in his master’s features. 

“It is not that. Can you command Ben- Joël or 
some other cunning spies of his species ? ” 

“Ben- Joël is at our service; we have paid him well 
for it, and I know him to be the man who will find us 
auxiliaries.” 

“ In that case, do not let us lose one minute.” 

“ What is to be done ? ” 

“ I desire, — for reasons into which you must not in- 
quire, — to obtain possession of an important docu- 
ment written by my father.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 131 

“ And the document is ?... ” 

“ I know not where ; Cyrano received it and in his 
turn entrusted it to the care of some one.” 

“ The devil, that is very complicated ! ” 

“It is not so complicated but that it can be disen- 
tangled with patience.” 

“ And the money,” said Rinaldo, who never lost 
sight of serious matters. 

“ You shall have it. The mission I have to entrust 
to you at present has four principal objects, viz : 

“ To watch Cyrano carefully, and, if he goes away, 
to know where he is going; to prevent him from 
reaching his destination ; to obtain possession of my 
father’s document, after discovering the name and the 
residence of him who has it, and lastly, if Bergerac, 
baffling all our ambuscades and finding out all our 
artifices, succeeds in regaining the valuable papers, to 
take them from him at any cost. I leave him in your 
hands, do you understand ? ” 

“ Perfectly. I see that you have given me a daring 
task. Captain Satan will not allow himself to be 
caught with chaff, and he has a devil of a calichemarde 
within gunshot of which it is not wise to venture.” 

“ Coward ! Ruffian ! Scoundrel ! Are you afraid ? ” 
cried the Count, angrily. 

“ Do not excite yourself. I may be afraid, but I 
am clever, and I will serve you better with my trick- 
ery than would a bravo with his sword.” 

“Besides, you will have Ben- Joël and his men to 
support you.” 

“ I shall rely on them. When shall we take the 
field?” 

“ Immediately.” 


134 Captain Satan, or, 

“ I understand. Are we going at once, master ? ” 

u ¥e will set out this evening. The twilight, my 
son, is a better guardian than the daylight of the se- 
crets confided to it. If the stars are out, it will be 
wise to keep in the shadow, in order not to attract the 
attention of the officers, and in order not to scandal- 
ize the citizens too deeply. You can muse now a 
while near the Pont-Meuf, while I bid good-morning 
to M. Jean de Lamothe, our dearly beloved provost, 
may the devil take him ! ” 

Having acquitted himself of that speech, the poet 
and his clerk, gaily and nimbly, set out on their way 
through Paris. 

Jean de Lamothe condescended to tell Cyrano that 
Manuel’s case required much consideration, and that 
probably it could not be tried for a whole month. 
That was all the poet desired to know. As a special 
favor, he obtained permission to send a note to the 
prisoner, in which he simply exhorted him to be pa- 
tient ; then he returned home. Castilian had not yet 
returned. 

The poet breakfasted and commenced a lengthy 
epistle to Jacques Longuépée. The letter written, he 
locked it in a drawer, from which at the same time he 
took a purse of goodly proportions. 

His secretary soon returned, making his sword ring 
as he walked. 

“It is not time,” said Cyrano. “We will dine at 
the Cœur -Hardy ; that will help us to be patient.” 

“Oh, master, you always have such wonderful 
thoughts. I altogether forgot my breakfast and I feel 
hungry enough to eat stones, in imitation of Saturn, 
father of the gods.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 135 

The Coeur-Hardy was on rue Guénégaud, not far 
from Brioche’s booth, the recent scene of Fagotin’s 
deplorable adventure. From the windows of the low 
room in which the two companions were seated, a 
corner of the Pont-JNTeuf could be seen, and undoubt- 
edly it was not unintentionally that Cyrano had chosen 
that inn in which to await the time for his enterprise. 
From the spot on which he was seated he could, with- 
out any trouble, see all that was happening without, 
and, as he ate and conversed with Sulpice, he did not 
lose sight of that part of the Pont-Heuf which he 
could see. 

The day was drawing gradually to a close ; soon the 
passers-by looked like shadows through the leaded 
windows of the tavern, and it became impossible for 
Cyrano to continue his search. That search had not 
evidently brought him the hoped-fOr result, for he ut- 
tered a low oath and rose, signing to Castilian to fol- 
low him. 

They walked along the Seine, in the direction of 
porte de Nesle. As they proceeded on their way, 
Cyrano, in a discreet voice, gave Castilian the expla- 
nations he had not yet dared to ask for. 

Soon they reached the House of Cyclops, which 
loomed up in the growing darkness, lighted near the 
top .by the window in Zilla’s room. 

“She is at home,” murmured Cyrano. “Let us 
watch a little.” 

The two men, enveloped in their cloaks, took up 
their post at several paces from the house, under the 
shelter of an immense elm, which spread its branches 
over their heads. One might have passed hard by 
them without seeing them, they stood there so mo- 


136 Captain Satan, or, 

tionless, and seemed to have become merged into the 
dark trunk of the old tree. 

Pedestrians were rare along the bank of the Seine, 
and the bustle of the city began to decrease. It' was 
the hour when law-abiding citizens sought their homes, 
and ramblers, prowlers on the cross-ways and other 
starlight cavaliers commenced their nocturnal enter- 
prises. 

Cyrano and Sulpice had watched a half-hour, when 
the door of the House of Cyclops opened noiselessly. 
A man came out, followed by two or three others. 
All of these passed our two characters without ob- 
serving them. When the last of them reached Cyr- 
ano, the latter ‘nudged his companion. 

“ Did you see him ? ” he asked, when the man was 
far enough away not to hear him. 

“ The man ? ” 

“ It was he ! It was Ben- Joël ! ” 

“ My faith ! I have not your lynx-like eyes, and I 
cannot prove what you say.” 

“ I recognized him, and I confess that I am very 
glad I waited. Our task is greatly simplified, thanks 
to the knave’s departure. My plan was not to make 
a stir, and we can now proceed with our inquiries in 
the most discreet manner in the world, in the sight 
of sweet Zilla. Let us enter without more delay, my 
boy.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 137 


XVI. 

Cyrano emerged from the shade in which he had 
concealed himself in order to study the ground, and 
knocked at Ben- Joel’s door. He had drawn his cloak 
over his face and pulled down his hat in such a way 
that only his eyes could be seen. Sulpice had taken 
the same precautions. 

At the third stroke of the knocker, the old portress 
opened the door. In her hand she held a lamp, which 
she placed on a level with her two visitors’ faces. Her 
inspection ended, and seeing that they were strangers, 
she was about to close the door, when a hand was out- 
stretched, holding toward her, between thumb and 
forefinger, a bright pistole, stopping her inhospitable 
intention. She quickly seized the coin from the tips 
of Cyrano’s fingers, and a smile, half -gracious, lighted 
up her face. 

“ What do you want, sir ? ” she asked. 

“ Ha ! old woman,” chaffed Cyrano, “ it takes a sil- 
ver key to open your beak, does it ? I desire to speak 
' to Zilla ! ” 

“ What do you want with her ? ” 

“ You are curious.” 

“ Zilla does not like to receive strangers, especially 
at such an hour and when she is alone.” 

Cyrano struck his purse, in which the gold and sil- 
ver pieces chinked gaily. 

“When the strangers have a well-filled purse to 
offer in exchange for the services they ask, Zilla, I 


138 


Captain Satan, or, 

suppose, cares little what time it is. In a word, dear 
woman,” he added, in a confidential tone, “ I want to 
buy a love-philter.” 

“If it is for that, sir,” said the portress, quite reas- 
sured, “ you could not come to a better place. Enter, 
take that staircase, and ascend as long as you find 
steps under your feet.” 

Cyrano did not need so many instructions ; he was 
familiar with the Bohemians’ dwelling. Without hesi- 
tation he began the ascent of the winding wooden 
staircase, on the steps of which Castilian slipped two 
or three times, calling down upon the House of Cy- 
clops a torrent of maledictions. 

A faint ray of light coming from under Zilla’s door 
served as a guide to Cyrano who, in the darkness on 
the stairs would have had difficulty in ascertaining 
where he was. He did not trouble to knock on the 
door, which yielded to his first pressure, and which al- 
most unexpectedly brought the visitors into the pres- 
ence of the mistress of the apartments. 

Zilla, attired in a long gown of white silk, open in 
Eastern fashion upon her breast, with bare arms, en- 
circled with gold bracelets, was slowly manipulating 
the contents of a dish of stoneware, placed on a small 
stove. The girl’s face, flushed by the warmth of the 
fire, was extraordinarily striking ; and when her black 
eyes, velvety and deep, were raised to the newcomers, 
Castilian felt himself enveloped in such warmth that 
he inwardly declared the sun was like ice compared to 
those two stars. 

Zilla seemed neither surprised nor terrified to find 
her apartment thus invaded. She took from the fire 
the vessel in which she was boiling a blackish liquid, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 139 

threw hack her somewhat disordered hair and ad- 
vanced in silence to meet the strangers. Cyrano care- 
fully closed the door, and, removing his cloak and hat, 
bowed before Zilla, not without a shade of irony. 

“ M. de Bergerac ! ” exclaimed the gypsy, turning 
suddenly pale. 

“ Is my visit a surprise to you, my beauty ? ” asked 
the poet. “ You should, however, have expected to 
see me.” 

“ Why ? ” inquired Zilla, curtly, meeting firmly Cyr- 
ano’s satirical glance. 

“ Because . . . but permit me,” interrupted the 

latter, “ to take precautions that we may not be dis- 
turbed. Castilian, my friend, lock the door and put 
the key in your pocket, I beg of you.” 

The young clerk obeyed and remained standing at 
the other end of the room, awaiting Cyrano’s orders. 

“ What do you want with me ? ” asked Zilla, haught- 
ily, knitting her brows at the sight of those prelimi- 
naries. 

“ Nothing very difficult,” said Savinien ; “ if I take 
the liberty of locking the door, it is because just now 
I noticed that any one can enter your room without 
being announced, and I have a horror of intruders. 
I shall now, my queen, tell you why I am here.” 

Zilla replied only by a wave of her hand. 

“ I need not explain to you,” began Cyrano, “ that 
it concerns Manuel.” 

A tremor ran through the gypsy’s form at the name 
which recalled so many memories ; but her face re- 
mained inscrutable. 

“ Manuel is in prison,” said the poet, with emphasis, 
M and it is you who have sent him there, Zilla, you and 


138 


Captain Satan, or, 

suppose, cares little what time it is. In a word, dear 
woman,” he added, in a confidential tone, “ I want to 
buy a love-philter.” 

“ If it is for that, sir,” said the portress, quite reas- 
sured, “ you could not come to a better place. Enter, 
take that staircase, and ascend as long as you find 
steps under your feet.” 

Cyrano did not need so many instructions ; he was 
familiar with the Bohemians’ dwelling. Without hesi- 
tation he began the ascent of the winding wooden 
staircase, on the steps of which Castilian slipped two 
or three times, calling down upon the House of Cy- 
clops a torrent of maledictions. 

A faint ray of light coming from under Zilla’s door 
served as a guide to Cyrano who, in the darkness on 
the stairs would have had difficulty in ascertaining 
where he was. He did not trouble to knock on the 
door, which yielded to his first pressure, and which al- 
most unexpectedly brought the visitors into the pres- 
ence of the mistress of the apartments. 

Zilla, attired in a long gown of white silk, open in 
Eastern fashion upon her breast, with bare arms, en- 
circled with gold bracelets, was slowly manipulating 
the contents of a dish of stoneware, placed on a small 
stove. The girl’s face, flushed by the warmth of the 
fire, was extraordinarily striking ; and when her black 
eyes, velvety and deep, were raised to the newcomers, 
Castilian felt himself enveloped in such warmth that 
he inwardly declared the sun was like ice compared to 
those two stars. 

Zilla seemed neither surprised nor terrified to find 
her apartment thus invaded. She took from the fire 
the vessel in which she was boiling a blackish liquid, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 139 

threw back her somewhat disordered hair and ad- 
vanced in silence to meet the strangers. Cyrano care- 
fully closed the door, and, removing his cloak and hat, 
bowed before Zilla, not without a shade of irony. 

“ M. de Bergerac ! ” exclaimed the gypsy, turning 
suddenly pale. 

“ Is my visit a surprise to you, my beauty ? ” asked 
the poet. “You should, however, have expected to 
see me.” 

“ Why ? ” inquired Zilla, curtly, meeting firmly Cyr- 
ano’s satirical glance. 

“ Because . . . but permit me,” interrupted the 

latter, “ to take precautions that we may not be dis- 
turbed. Castilian, my friend, lock the door and put 
the key in your pocket, I beg of you.” 

The young clerk obeyed and remained standing at 
the other end of the room, awaiting Cyrano’s orders. 

“ What do you want with me ? ” asked Zilla, haught- 
ily, knitting her brows at the sight of those prelimi- 
naries. 

“ Nothing very difficult,” said Savinien ; “ if I take 
the liberty of locking the door, it is because just now 
I noticed that any one can enter your room without 
being announced, and I have a horror of intruders. 
I shall now, my queen, tell you why I am here.” 

Zilla replied only by a wave of her hand. 

“ I need not explain to you,” began Cyrano, “ that 
it concerns Manuel.” 

A tremor ran through the gypsy’s form at the name 
which recalled so many memories ; but her face re- 
mained inscrutable. 

“Manuel is in prison,” said the poet, with emphasis, 
“ and it is you who have sent him there, Zilla, you and 


140 


Captain Satan, or, 

your brother, by refusing to speak the truth. How- 
ever, when the truth hides itself away, it is necessary 
to seek it in its hiding-place, and here I am.” 

“ I do not understand you, sir,” interposed Zilla, in 
an icy tone. 

“It is, nevertheless, very simple. Ben- Joël main- 
tained that Manuel was not the Count’s brother after 
having sworn to me that he was ; Ben- Joël denied the 
existence of the proof of this fact, after having given 
me the assurance that he held that proof in his hands. 
What would you have me think if not that your 
brother has placed himself at the service of another’s 
passions and is sacrificing Manuel to I know not what 
miserable interest ? ” 

“ You should not reproach me, sir, but my brother.” 

“ Your brother is an incredible knave, of whom I 
wish to ask nothing. I know, however, of something 
that will speak more plainly than he.” 

“ And that is ? . . . ” 

“ Old Joël’s, your father’s, book. That book ex- 
ists, it is here, I wish to buy it of you.” 

Zilla smiled scornfully. 

“ A bargain ? ” she asked. “ From Captain Satan, 
from Cyrano the Invincible, a threat would have 
seemed nobler to me.” 

“ Do not let us waste words, my dear. Then you 
confess that the book is in your possession ? ” 

“I confess nothing.” 

“ In that case, you will allow us to search for it ! ” 

“ To search for it ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“That is a generous proceeding and worthy of a 
gentleman ! ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 141 

“ Who wishes to be generous, my dear ! When you 
have ruined Manuel by an odious lie, do you consider 
a paltry question of delicacy ? ” 

“Go, sir,” cried Zilla, her bosom heaving with 
anger, her breath coming in gasps, “ go, or I will not 
answer for myself.” 

At the same time she armed herself with a poniard 
having a short and narrow blade, and, bounding toward 
Cyrano, said : 

“ One scratch made by this blade, would be death ; 
for this weapon has been steeped in a deadly and 
subtle poison. With it, I do not fear your swords ; go 
then, for the last time I command you.” 

Cyrano smiled, and, with a movement quicker than 
thought, he imprisoned Zilla’s wrist in his right hand, 
while with the other he easily took from her the 
poisoned dagger and passed it to Castilian. 

“You see, my dear,” said he, “how childish your 
anger is. Come, sit down here quietly, and let us act. 
If you resist, I shall be forced to bind you, for which 
I should be very sorry, I assure you, and if you should 
cry out, I should have the sorrow of gagging you, an 
action very distasteful to ladies.” 

Zilla, vanquished, sank into a chair. 

“ Search,” she murmured in a faint voice. 

Without losing sight of Zilla, who, her head in her 
hands, leaned upon a table covered with books, vials 
and various things, and seemed determined to see 
nothing going on around her, Cyrano and Sulpice be- 
gan to overturn furniture and to rummage in the most 
secret corners of drawers. That task soon absorbed 
their entire attention. Cyrano thought that at any 
moment he might come upon the object of his efforts, 


142 Captain Satan, or, 

and each time his hopes were deceived ; a terrible oath 
escaped his lips. Zilla did not seem affected by those 
bursts of anger. But, whilst he was busily engaged in 
his search for the book not to be found, Zilla’s right 
hand slowly slipped from her brow to move along the 
table, where it seized a small strip of paper. She put 
it in front of her ; with the same precaution she took 
a pen, dipped it in an ink-well and furtively traced 
two lines on the paper. That done, she rolled up 
her note, slipped it in a glass tube within reach, and 
rose just as Cyrano and Castilian approached the 
table in order to empty the drawers, their efforts up 
to that time having proved fruitless. 

At Zilla’s movement, Bergerac feared another 
attempt at resistance, and his keen eyes rested on 
the young girl, who did not mistake his intention. 

“Continue your search,” said she, with surprising 
docility ; “ I will not annoy you, I suppose, by resum- 
ing my work.” 

And taking Cyrano’s permission for granted, she 
turned toward the stove built in one corner of the 
room, and resumed her stirring interrupted by the 
arrival of the two men. 

“Yery well,” said Cyrano. “You are indeed a 
sensible girl, Zilla.” 

Zilla smiled pleasantly. Simultaneously her hand 
discreetly slipped a small iron trap, covering an 
opening made above the stove, which communicated 
with a large pipe, common in all the chimneys of the 
House of Cyclops. 

Through that aperture, closed almost immediately, 
Zilla dropped the tube containing her note, and a 
gleam of triumph sparkled in the girl’s eyes when she 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 143 

heard the faint sound of the glass breaking on the 
hearth-stone of the ground-floor. 

The cause of that triumphant expression can be 
easily understood. On hearing the glass break near 
him, one of the ragamuffins sleeping in the parlor, a 
tall fellow with a complexion like bistre, with angular 
limbs and hair like wool, stole noiselessly toward the 
fireplace, picked up the note freed from its cover, 
and read it by the light of a lamp hanging from the 
ceiling. 

“ The devil ! ” he cried, “ there is need of haste.” 

Zilla’s mysterious correspondent turned the street- 
door on its hinges and rushed out. 

The night was dark. Our man ran as fast as his 
legs would carry him toward the Pont-Neuf. Arrived 
at the head of the bridge, he gave a prolonged 
whistle, modulated in a particular way. A similar 
signal replied to him and was repeated until it reached 
the other bank of the Seine. Several instants later, 
five or six men were grouped around the messenger 
from the House of Cyclops. 

“ Ben- Joël,” said the latter to one of them, “ do you 
know what is going on at your house ? ” 

“ What, pray ? ” 

“ Zilla is the prisoner of two bold men, who are 
pillaging your apartments. She threw me a note 
in order that I might go in search of aid. Come, 
quick.” 

“ Men at my lodgings ! ” said Ben-Joël, “ who has 
dared ? ” 

“Your sister wrote the name of Cyrano.” 

“ Captain Satan ! ” exclaimed Ben- Joël. “ Ah ! I 
will repay him for his blows.” 


144 


Captain Satan, or, 

The bandit felt in his belt for the handle of his 
knife, and began to run toward the House of Cyclops, 
followed by his whole pack of bravos. 

These various manoeuvres had not taken more than 
a quarter of an hour. Cyrano and Castilian were 
still hunting. They had emptied drawers, cut open 
pillows, sounded the walls to no purpose. 

“ Nothing ! Still nothing ! ” grumbled Cyrano, dis- 
contentedly. “ We must look in the other room.” 

He looked at Zilla, who, standing motionless at the 
opposite end of the room, watched Savinien with a 
strange # look, which greatly disquieted the young 
clerk ; not that he was afraid, but because, accustomed 
to look for the reason of things, he vainly sought to 
explain the meaning of that glance. 

“ Help me, lazy fellow ! ” Cyrano called to him, re- 
suming his quest. 

Suddenly the poet uttered an exclamation of de- 
light. Under an old carpet, he had just discovered a 
small iron-bound chest, which hitherto had escaped his 
investigations. 

“At last,” he cried, “here is the object’s hiding- 
place.” 

A sudden movement on the part of Zilla seemed 
about to confirm the poet’s suspicions. She seemed 
on the point of rushing upon him to prevent him from 
continuing his researches, cr}dng at the same time : 

“ Wretch ! Do not touch that chest ! ” 

“ Do you see, Castilian,” said Cyrano, tranquilly, 
holding Zilla in check almost courteously, “ this time 
we have dislodged the bird. If our lovely sibyl does 
not hinder us any longer, we will take it in our 
hands.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 145 

Zilla, however, seemed disposed to make serious re- 
sistance. Cyrano had difficulty in keeping her in her 
place, while Castilian drew the chest toward the 
centre of the room, in order to be able to open it more 
easily. 

Suddenly Zilla ceased struggling. She had heard 
a sound on the staircase. The sound grew more dis- 
tinct. The girl was not mistaken. The note had 
reached its destination ; Ben- Joël and his followers 
were coming to the rescue. 

“ Ah ! M. de Cyrano,” she cried, freeing herself 
from de Bergerac’s grasp to take refuge at Jhe other 
end of the room, “ you would not go awa}^ when I 
bade you ; who knows now if you can go when you 
like?” 

These words were scarcely uttered, when loud 
knocks, so much the more unexpected as Cyrano and 
Castilian had heard no noise before them, were heard 
at the door. 

At the same time a thunder of furious and menac- 
ing voices came through the oaken door. 

Cyrano straightened up. 

“ It is here, my boy,” said he to Castilian, “ that our 
swords must play their little parts. That accursed 
book is here ; if we do not succeed in possessing our- 
selves of it before they break open the door, we will 
have to do this over again.” 

“ I think,” added Castilian, drawing his sword, “ at 
present we should save our skins, which seem to me 
to be in great jeopardy.” 

A cracking sound was heard. The door had given 
way beneath the assailants’ efforts. A violent push 
threw it off its hinges, and five men, led by Ben-Joel ? 


146 Captain Satan, or, 

rushed into the room. All were armed with daggers 
or with swords. 

“ Now, my fine Captain,” cried the Bohemian, when 
he was in the presence of Cyrano, “ we shall settle our 
account at last ! Forward, men, and no quarter to 
these coxcombs.” 

“ Those are fine words,” smiled Cyrano, disdainfully. 
“ Make way there, knaves ! ” 

“Kill him! Kill him!” cried Ben- Joel’s band, 
rushing upon Cyrano and Castilian. 

The sword of the nobleman of Périgord described a 
terrible circle in the air. The Bohemian recoiled, 
blinded by the bright steel. 

“ Make way there ! ” repeated Cyrano, rushing for- 
ward. 

A sharp pain made him retreat in his turn. Ben- 
Joël had rushed at him and had traitorously stabbed 
him in his thigh, hoping to fell him thus and to finish 
him when he was once on the ground. Cyrano’s 
sword was raised menacingly. Ben- Joël leaped back 
to escape the thrust and fortified himself behind his 
companions. 

All returned to the charge. Sulpice sustained the 
assault, while Cyrano quickly tied his scarf around his 
wounded leg. The secretary proved himself worthy 
of his master. His long sword lashed the bandits’ 
faces from right to left, striping three with a red line. 
Finally the sword returned to its normal position and 
became entangled with that of one of his assailants. 

“ Thrust ! ” cried Cyrano, who had just reentered 
the melee. 

Castilian took advantage of Savinien’s advice. He 
did as he was bid, and pierced the breast of his adver- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 147 

sary, who fell groaning at his feet. Bergerac, at the 
same instant, felled to the floor a second bandit, and 
his sword threatened Ben-Joël’s breast. The Bohe- 
mian was on the point of retreating again, when he 
slipped in the blood and fell upon one knee. 

Zilla, who up to that time had witnessed the un- 
equal struggle, impassive and in silence, now saw that 
Ben- Joël was lost. "With the rapidity of thought, she 
seized a cape lying on a piece of furniture, ran up to 
Cyrano, and threw it over his head. Blinded and 
stifled by the folds of the material, the nobleman in- 
stinctively sought to free himself from that new kind 
of hood, while Castilian parried the blows aimed at him 
from all sides. 

During his brief capture, Cyrano stumbled, and his 
injured limb struck a corner of a stool. The pain al- 
most rendered him unconscious, and if, on extending 
his arm, he had not reached the Avail which served him 
as a support, he Avould undoubtedly have fallen. 

The four bandits, more skilful in handling the knife 
than the sword, stood by, for being quite saving of 
their skins, they did not know hoAV to profit by 
Cyrano’s dilemma. Castilian, moreover, fought like 
a demon, and his sword seemed to multiply in num- 
ber in Bergerac’s defence. When the assailants be- 
thought themselves of rushing in a body upon the 
nobleman, it Avas too late : the latter had succeeded in 
disengaging himself from the cape Avith which Zilla 
had muffled his head, and his Aveapon whirred at about 
tAVO inches from the bravos’ breasts. 

ISTotAvithstanding the advantage he had knoAvn Iioav 
to maintain, Cyrano could not deceive himself as to the 
gravity of his situation. He must inevitably succumb. 


148 


Captain Satan, or, 

That desperate thought caused him to bound for- 
ward with such fury that the Bohemians in confusion 
retreated toward the door. Ben- Joël uttered a cry of 
rage, on seeing his victim about to escape him. Not 
daring to venture into the flaming circle made by 
Cyrano’s sword, he seized an oaken stool by the leg 
and threw it at the poet. Castilian sprang forward 
at the same moment and received the projectile in- 
tended for Cyrano. His sword fell from his hand, his 
limbs gave way, and he fell upon the ground. 

That incident caused Cyrano to lose a part of his 
composure ; when he went, regardless of his own 
safety, to lean over Castilian, another stool thrown 
by one of Ben- J oel’s men broke the blade of his sword 
thus leaving him at the mercy of the assassins. 

“ He is disarmed ! Heath ! Heath ! ” yelled the 
Bohemians. 

Zilla took a step toward the combatants. Perhaps 
she was about to save the life of the man whom she 
could not bear to see murdered in so cowardly a man- 
ner, when Kinaldo suddenly appeared at the door of 
the room. 

On recognizing Cyrano de Bergerac, on seeing the 
four bandits, the dagger raised above the nobleman, 
the Italian rushed into the midst of the circle and re- 
strained Ben- J oël’s arm, ready to strike. 

“ Ho not kill him ! ” he cried at the same time. 

Then, in a low voice, dragging him far away from 
Cyrano, he added : 

“ Have you forgotten our agreement of this morn- 
ing ? He must live to put us on the track of the de 
Lembrat secret.” 

Ben- Joel’s three acolytes, seeing their chief give 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 149 

up the game, thought they must imitate him ; instead, 
therefore, of continuing their attacks on Cyrano, they 
simply confined themselves to falling back toward the 
door, in order to render all attempts at flight impos- 
sible. 

Castilian, during that short scene, had gradually re- 
covered from the effects of the stun ; Cyrano, being 
free, extended his hand to him and helped him to rise. 

The brave nobleman was still wondering why 
Rinaldo’s intervention had procured for him so unex- 
pected a truce, when Roland’s valet approached him 
very politely, and, endeavoring to force a smile upon 
his sinister face, said : 

“ M. de Bergerac, you may retire ; you have noth- 
ing more to fear ! ” 

“Ha! Master Rinaldo,” asked Bergerac, proudly, 
“ may I know to what I owe the favor of your pity ? ” 

“ I am happy to be able to rescue one of the Count’s 
friends from an embarrassing situation.” 

“ Hm ! there is something beneath this. In any 
case, knaves,” continued Cyrano, glancing at the ban- 
dits who surrounded him, “ if it is in the hope of a 
more successful victory that you allow me to escape, 
you are very much mistaken, for I swear to you that 
I will not spare you by any means when the occasion 
presents itself. Take my arm, Castillan. Au revoir , 
Zilla.” 

And, as haughty as a satrap, the nobleman passed 
through the group of bravos, caring naught for their 
knives and naked swords, and walked calmly toward 
the staircase. 

When he had disappeared, followed by Castilian, 
Rinaldo burst into mocking laughter. 


150 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Without me,” he said to Ben-Joël, “you would 
have committed an irreparable act of folly.” 

“ I want his blood,” growled the Bohemian, with a 
savage air ; “ sooner or later I will have it, Rinaldo.” 

“ I will give up your man to you when I no longer 
have need of him. Rest assured, he shall not escape 
you ; from now on, I consider him neither more nor 
less than a cock-chafer with a string tied to his foot.” 

That metaphor on the part of M. Rinaldo put an 
end to the colloquy ; the two wounded were carried 
away by their friends, and Zilla remained alone in her 
room, where the traces of Cyrano’s passage were 
shown by the general disorder. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 151 


XVII. 

On the following day, a man, an old man who hob- 
bled, stopped in front of Cyrano’s abode, a sort of inn 
of tolerably fair appearance, and after a moment's 
hesitation, stole with an humble air into the coffee- 
room, on the ground-floor. The man wore a shabby 
black jacket, breeches that were too short, fastened 
to the jacket by a leather belt at which was suspended 
a writer’s ink horn, while his stockings were of a 
greyish hue, and his large boots were without strings. 
A dirty cap covered the top of his head, from which 
hung long locks of grey hair. 

The stranger presented a very pitiful appearance in 
that plight. His bowed form seemed drawn toward 
the earth by the weight of a small valise which he 
carried on his arm, while a short, dry cough from 
time to time shook his emaciated frame. 

Although he looked more like a poor wretch come 
to beg alms than like a traveler in a position to pay 
his bill, the landlord, who w r as not unkind to the 
needy, advanced politely and asked what he wanted. 

“ A room, if you please,” said the stranger, between 
two paroxysms of coughing. 

“ Do you know that you must pay the first week in 
advance ? ” insinuated the proprietor, gently. 

“ How much ? ” asked the old man. “ I am not 
rich, and I have to be careful of my money.” 

“ It will cost you a pistole a week. You come from 
a distance, no doubt, sir ? ” 


152 


Captain Satan, or, 

“I come from Anjou,” replied the traveler, unty- 
ing the strings of his purse in order to pay the inn- 
keeper. 

4 4 And you have probably come to practice your 
profession in Paris ? ” the landlord made so bold as to 
ask, 44 for if I can judge by the ink horn hanging at 
your side, you are a writer by trade.” 

44 1 am a poet,” replied the man with a simplicity 
that did not exclude a certain pride, 44 and I have come 
to Paris in the hope of having one of my tragedies 
put on the stage here.” 

44 How things come about ! My house is just now 
honored by the presence of one of your fellow authors, 
the author of Agrippine , the great Cyrano de 
Bergerac.” 

44 1 knew it, master. That is why I chose your 
house in preference to any other, wishing to be in the 
vicinity of my Apollo-like master. For that very 
reason I would ask you if you could possibly give me 
a room near his. One likes to draw near the sun,” he 
explained with a smile. 

44 If you like,” said the landlord, 44 1 will present you 
to M. Cyrano ; he is a good fellow, no matter what 
they say of him.” 

44 Ho, indeed ! ” said the man, rather hurriedly ; 44 by 
doing so, you would embarrass me. Beserve your 
good intentions for the day on which I shall have put 
the finishing-touch to my work, that I am now re- 
touching.” 

44 As you like. I have nothing more to offer you, in 
point of lodging, but a very small room ; it is, how- 
ever, directly above that of M. de Bergerac. In it, 
you will be able to hear him recite his verses, for he 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 153 

enters into them with all his heart, and in a voice of 
thunder. Does that please you ? ” 

“ Greatly,” replied the country-man. “ It will be a 
treat for the gods.” 

“ Follow me then ; I will see you to your room.” 

The old man again took up his valise and, preceded by 
the landlord, he climbed the stairs leading to the upper 
floors not without coughing. On reaching the first 
landing, the tavern-keeper pointed to a door, saying : 

“ That is where M. de Cyrano is staying.” 

The rustic stopped and looked at the door with an 
air at once respectful and affectionate. 

“ There ?” he repeated, clasping his hands devoutly. 

“ Yes, but come and go softly, for our poet is ill ; he 
has some fever, and his secretary has asked me not to 
disturb his rest.” 

“ Ah Î Holy Virgin, what has happened to that 
peerless man ? ” 

“ He received a stab in some adventure ; such things 
ofterf happen to him, for he is, as you must know, as 
prodigal with his sword as with his pen.” 

“ May God save him ! ” sighed the traveler, with 
unction. 

“ Oh ! he is in no danger. The doctor says it will 
take only five or six days to cure him.” 

“ Heaven be praised ! ” 

The conversation took place in the room which the 
honest innkeeper destined for his new customer. 

“ You are in your own room,” he said to him, open- 
ing the window to air the small room ; “ when you 
are hungry, you can come downstairs or you can call 
Barbe, the servant, who will bring your meals to you 
here. You can take your choice.” 


154 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Thanks ; I am not rich enough to allow myself 
much luxury in the way of food and drink. Generally, 
if you will permit, I attend to my own needs.” 

The landlord made a slight grimace on hearing that 
statement, which deprived him of a hoped-for profit, 
and, bowing to the stranger with a slightly disdainful 
air, he said : 

“Every one is free to do as he pleases. Your serv- 
ant, sir.” 

When the door had closed upon the innkeeper, the 
little old man smiled quietly and cunningly ; his bent 
form straightened up, his eyes brightened, and, 
throwing his valise on the bed, he began to walk 
around the room with a light step, going from one 
corner to the other, discreetly moving the furniture, 
sounding the walls, and conducting himself as if he 
were about to pursue some mysterious inquiry. Ilis 
limbs, so weak a moment before, served him mar- 
velously well; he no longer coughed, no longer 
limped, and had not his hair been grey, he would have 
passed for a young man. 

Having examined the condition of his lodging at 
his pleasure, the old man opened his valise and took 
from it, no manuscripts, books nor papers, as one night 
have supposed, but a set of sharp files, a drill and a 
short air-cane. In the bottom of the half-open valise 
gleamed the butt-ends of two pistols. 

Whilst the old man was handling the various objects 
with a reflective air, a low rap was heard at the door. 

He hastily replaced in the bottom of his valise 
those tools so greatly out of place in a poet’s hands, 
and was suddenly seized with a violent fit of cough- 
ing. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 155 

“ Come in,” lie cried, in a wheezing voice. 

The landlord appeared. 

“ Pardon me, sir,” he said ; “ I forgot to ask your 
name.” 

“ My name is Mathurin Lescot.” 

“ From Anjou ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Having come from Angers, I believe ? ” 

« Yes.” 

“ And in Paris for his pleasure ? ” 

“ I have already told you. Why so many questions ? ” 

“ Excuse me ; it is the provost’s order. In these 
troublous times he desires to know the minutest de- 
tails. But, make yourself easy, they will not molest 
you ; you have not the appearance of a conspirator ! ” 

And with those words, the man closed the door 
again. 

“ A plague on the beggar ! ” growled he, who had 
just styled himself Mathurin Lescot; “why did he 
disturb me thus just as I was about to commence my 
task ? ” 

A joyous voice singing a bacchic refrain suddenly 
reached the enigmatical old man’s ears. It came from 
the lower floor, that is to say from Cyrano’s apart- 
ments, and belonged to Sulpice, whose depression must 
have been very great, for he was singing at the top of 
his voice, in spite of the order for quiet given by him 
to the landlord. 

Castilian was indeed very much provoked. The 
doctor had just told him that Cyrano’s wound, which 
seemed now more serious than on his first visit, would 
perhaps necessitate treatment for a week or two. 
And Castilian was disconsolate at the thought that 


156 Captain Satan, or, 

his master would be obliged to keep his room just 
when he needed all his time and all his activity 
the most. Notwithstanding the physician’s orders, 
Cyrano would not stay in bed. He was seated in a 
large easy-chair, and his wounded limb rested on a 
stool, covered with a soft cushion arranged by good 
Suzanne’s careful hands. Hard by his hand was spread 
a white sheet of paper which Cyrano looked at, biting 
his pen, in the fashion of a poet who vainly courts in- 
spiration. Suddenly, the injured man flung aside his 
pen and bade Suzanne take out of a drawer in a piece 
of furniture, which he pointed out to her, a letter that 
was there. It was the one which he had written the 
day before to the curé of Saint-Sernin. He broke 
the seal and began to read it attentively. 

“ Why ‘rewrite it?” he murmured. “I need only 
add two words to this, and it will be all right.” 

He took up his pen, wrote rapidly after his signa- 
ture several lines which he signed with a gigantic C 
to prove the authenticity of the postscript ; then he 
again sealed the missive and called Castilian, whose 
interminable song made the room ring with its echoes. 
The secretary, interrupted in the midst of a couplet, 
thrust his piteous face in at the door. 

“ Come hither, musician of the devil,” said Cyrano 
to him ; “ it is time to change the anthem. Have you 
any money ? ” 

At that question, which seemed monstrous to him, 
Sulpice opened his eyes exceedingly wide and was on 
the point of disrespectfully asking his master if he 
had gone mad. 

“ Any money ? ” he repeated, as if he had not heard 
aright, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 157 

“ I asked you, my boy, because I have only a few 
pistoles left, and because we need money, lots of 
money.” 

“ Why not ask the thistle if it bears roses and the 
dog’s-grass black cherries ? ” replied the secretary im- 
pertinently yielding to the temptation to mock which 
possessed him. 

“Very well,” said Cyrano, calmly, without noticing 
the clerk’s observation, “ then in order to be poor and 
miserable like Job, you need only a dung-heap to sit on, 
a potsherd to scratch you and a woman to abuse you ? ” 

“Nothing could be more accurate nor better de- 
fined, dear master.” 

“You must, however, my boy, have, before this 
evening, a good horse, warm clothing and a full 
purse.” 

“ The devil ! Who will work the miracle ? ” 

“We shall see. Take this ring I received from my 
friend, Colignac, and go with it to a Jew. He will 
give you a thousand pistoles, I think.” 

“ Do you want to sell that jewel ? ” 

“No ; it is simply to be pawned.” 

As Cyrano spoke those words, a slight noise at- 
tracted his attention. It was the grating of an instru- 
ment on hard wood, and came from the joists of the 
ceiling, as far as the poet could judge, for the grating 
was very discreet and it was difficult to discover the 
exact cause of it. 

“ There are rats here,” reflected Cyrano, aloud. 
“ This house is certainly a hovel. I must bid Master 
Gonin put traps in his garrets, for want of which 
those gnawers will some day eat my books and my 
papers.” 


158 Captain Satan, or, 

Had the poet been able to see what was going on 
over his head, he would not have been surprised at 
the cause of that noise slanderously attributed to the 
sharp teeth of the slow-trotting species. Like Ham- 
let, in Shakespeare’s tragedy, he cried : “ It is a rat ! ” 
and it was with a man he had to do. The mysterious 
guest on the upper floor was, at that very moment, 
squaling on the floor of his room, trying with the aid 
of his drill to bore a hole in it, that he might see into 
Cyrano’s apartments. The hole made, he put in the 
air-cane, the projecting end of which was like the bell 
of an ear-trumpet, then he lay down flat on his 
stomach and put his ear to the orifice, just in time to 
hear Savinien’s remark. 

“ I am saved,” thought he, hearing the poet inter- 
pret as we have seen the slight sound which, in spite 
of all his precautions, the spy could not avoid. 

Cyrano listened again, then, hearing nothing more, 
he turned to Castilian, saying : 

“ Go, find an honest Lombard, if there is one of that 
genus, and give him the ring in exchange for a care- 
fully worded pledge, as I want to redeem the iewel.” 

“ And then?” 

“ Then, with the proceeds of the pledge, you will 
fit yourself out as I have just told you, and return to 
me. Before leaving we must have a categorical ex- 
planation. But go; I will give you my instruction 
this evening.” 

“ When am I to set out ? ” Castilian ventured to ask. 

“ To-morrow morning, please God.” 

“Will the journey be a long one ? ” 

“ That will depend on your activity and your horse’s 
pace, my boy. Until this evening ! ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 159 

“Until this evening!” assented Castilian, without 
further remark. 

“ It was time,” said the man at the air-cane, leaving 
his post. 

And, knowing that there would he several hours 
during which he could learn nothing more, he left his 
room, resumed his coughing and descended to the cof- 
fee-room, where, notwithstanding the caution taken 
with regard to Master Gonin, and to the latter’s great 
amazement, he hade Barbe, the maid, bring him a 
slice of beef, an omelette and a measure of wine. 

He quickly disposed of that repast and, putting 
aside his napkin, he spread before him a blank copy- 
book, which he began to fill with writing, with 
feverish ardor. Master Gonin, with the curiosity 
characteristic of innkeepers, seeing the symmetrical 
lines written by the old scribe’s pen, supposed that his 
customer was struggling with the Muse and ventured 
to ask him what he was doing. 

“Ugh ! ” hemmed the poet, “ my hero gives me lots 
of trouble ; this is the twentieth time I have recom- 
menced one of his great passages ; but alas ! it is far 
from resembling the work of the great Cyrano, my 
model ! That illustrious poet’s first passage is worth 
all the most refined thoughts that I have drawn from 
my brain. Just listen to these lines from his fine 
tragedy of Agrippine.” 

The old man tragically flung his napkin over his 
shoulder, made a sweeping gesture, rolled his eyes 
terribly and, addressing Master Gonin, he cried : 

“Non ! je la hais dans l’âme ! ” 

“ It is Séjanus who is speaking,” he explained, in a 


160 Captain Satan, or, 

gentler voice, which soon resumed its tragical pitch, on 
continuing, 

“ Non ! je la hais dans l’âme ! 

Et quoiqu’elle m’adore et qu’elle ait à mes voeux. 

Immolé son époux, son frère et ses neveux, 

Je la trouve effroijable; et plus sa main sanglante 
Exécute pour moi, plus elle m’épouvante ; 

Je ne puis à sa flamme apprivoiser mon cœur, 

Et jusqu’à ses bienfaits me donnent de l’horreur.” 

That last line was emphasized in such a way that 
Master Gonin recoiled in terror. 

“ How grand that is ! How beautiful ! ” exclaimed 
the little old man, apparently overflowing with en- 
thusiasm. “ Ah ! one feels like destroying one’s pen ; 
those lines I have just recited are sufficient to rob me 
of all courage. Give me another measure of wine.” 

“ My opinion is,” murmured the innkeeper, obeying 
that order, “that this good man has more taste for 
Bacchus than for the Muses ! ” 

That reflection, which revealed within Master 
Gonin a certain literary culture, inspired him with 
serious respect for his customer. Notwithstanding his 
principles, the old man ate and drank, and Master 
Gonin determined to keep him in that mood by flatter- 
ing his poetical mania. 

When the man had quaffed his second measure, his 
head began to nod on his shoulders ; he coughed two 
or three times, then the cough was followed by a deep 
snore and the poet-tippler gradually stretched himself 
out on the bench and disappeared, hidden by the table 
on which he had dined. 

Toward evening, Castilian, newly-attired and 
mounted on a handsome bay, rode up to Master 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 161 

Gonin’s door. He leaped lightly from the saddle, 
fastened his lines to the ring affixed to the post at the 
door, and passed noisily through the hall, making his 
heels, armed with formidable spurs, ring on the floor. 

Scarcely had he cleared the first steps of the stairs 
when the drunkard yawned loudly and sat up, stretch- 
ing his arms. 

“ Ah ! ” said he to Master Gonin, who was looking 
at him, “ that short nap restored me. I shall continue 
it in my bed. Give me a candle.” 

“ Would you like some one to accompany you ? ” 

“ It is not necessary. I know my way.” 

Stumbling as he went, he took the candle from the 
landlord’s hands. He tripped upon the first step and 
notwithstanding that incident which proved him still 
intoxicated, he cleared the steps quickly enough after 
Castilian. 

A moment later, he was locked in his room, and, 
stretched upon the floor with his ear glued to the air- 
cane, ready to listen to the undoubtedly very impor- 
tant conversation to be carried on by Sulpice Castilian 
and Cyrano. 


162 


Captain Satan, or, 


XYIII. 

“ How much ? ” asked the nobleman, without other 
preamble, when Sulpice appeared before him. 

The secretary understood the meaning of the ques- 
tion, and, employing the same brevity, replied : 

“ Twelve hundred pistoles.” 

“Two hundred more than I expected. That Jew 
is honest.” 

“ He said that if you would sell him the ring, he 
would give you one-fourth more than the sum he has 
loaned you.” 

“ Then the jewel is worth a third more. But that 
is not the question. How much have you left ? ” 

“ The horse cost me two hundred pistoles, the suit 
fifty. That leaves nine hundred and fifty pistoles and 
here they are.” 

“ Keep two hundred and lock the rest in that 
drawer.” 

Castilian divided the money and slipped his part in 
his pocket. 

“ How, my son, impress well on your mind what I 
am about to tell you,” continued Cyrano. “If this 
accursed wound did not keep me a prisoner, I should 
be galloping to-morrow over the road to Périgord, and 
I could have left you here. But I have at least an- 
other week of this ; to await my recovery to act my- 
self, would be but to prolong poor Ludovic’s agony. 
You must therefore set out in order to gain time.” 

“ What will I have to do ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyraiio de Bergerac. 163 

“ One very simple thing. Carry this letter to my 
friend Jacques, of whom I have spoken to you so 
often.” 

“ Ah ! I shall be happy to make his acquaintance, 
my faith ! ” 

“ He has a kind heart. It may be that he may at 
first mistrust you, for I have warned him against all 
attempts at seduction or violence. But when he will 
have reflected on the terms of my letter, his doubts 
will disappear, and as I have pointed out to him, he 
will set out with you, armed with the valuable trust 
which I have reclaimed from him, and which neither 
you nor he can know the contents of.” 

“Could I not save him a journey and take charge of 
it myself ? ” 

“ You know, my boy, that I am brave, do you not ? 
Well ! make no objection. Bravery does not exclude 
prudence ; as I have asked Jacques to accompany you, 
it is necessary that he should.” 

Castilian bowed. 

“ This task, which I entrust to you is not without 
peril,” said Cyrano. “ Boland de Lembrat is inter- 
ested in obtaining possession of the document for 
which you are going, and he will not fail to put out 
his spies in order to track us. There may be a strug- 
gle, and I do not want to be beaten, even on your 
back.” 

“ Yery well, you shall be obeyed in every detail.” 

“ In order to convince you of the importance of this 
matter, I will say again, my boy, that I shall set out 
as soon as I can mount a horse.” 

u You will join us ? ” 

“ I will at least come as far as Colignac to meet you. 


164 


Captain Satan, or, 

If you reach there before me, you must wait. I have 
done. Your hand, Castilian; bid me farewell, for 
you must leave at daybreak, and I am very anxious to 
sleep.” 

The secretary pressed the hand which Cyrano ex- 
tended to him and withdrew in silence. 

Before thinking of rest, he went in search of Su- 
zanne in her room, made her cut open his doublet and 
insert the letter to Jacques between the lining and 
the cloth. When Suzanne had again sewed up the 
secret pocket, the young man kissed her boldly on 
both cheeks, as a reward for her trouble, and bade 
her good-bye. 

From the head of the staircase, he called to Master 
Gonin to put his horse in the stable, and flung himself 
dressed on his bed, as the chimes of the Samaritan 
sounded the hour of nine. 

One hour later, Count Roland de Lembrat, return- 
ing from a visit to the Marquis de Faventines, entered 
his house, escorted by lackeys carrying torches and 
armed with swords and cudgels, a double precaution 
taken against the idler rogues to whom Paris belonged 
at that epoch, when once curfew had rung. 

The Count had just retired, when a servant tapped 
softly at the door. 

“ Is it you, Blaisois ? ” called the Count, from his 
bed. 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“ What do you want ? ” 

“ There is a man here who insists on speaking to you.” 

“ At eleven o’clock ! Let him go to the devil ! ” 

“ He pretends that the matter cannot be deferred. 
It is about M. de Cyrano.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 165 

“ Light a taper and admit him. But if he is dis- 
turbing me for nothing, look out for his bones and for 
yours ! ” 

Then Blaisois ventured to push open the door, 
which was only ajar, and appeared holding a lighted 
candle in his hand. 

Behind him, bowing humbly, came the old man 
whose acquaintance we have already made at Master 
Gonin’s, the poet, the adept of Cyrano, Mathurin Les- 
cot ! He had so pitiful an air, he trembled so ludi- 
crously in his ragged jacket and short breeches, that 
the Count could not help laughing in the face of the 
strange personage. 

“ Granted that I am a good prince, my brave,” said 
he to him. “ Try to merit the welcome I am giving 
you, by telling me something of interest. I am lis- 
tening.” 

And as the old man began to tremble again, Roland 
commanded : 

“ Speak. Are you afraid ? ” 

The man cast an eloquent glance at the footman 
who had admitted him. 

“ What I have to say to your lordship,” he ventured 
at the same time, “ must be heard by you alone.” 

“ Blaisois, leave us,” said the Count, whose impa- 
tience was increasing. 

When he found that he was alone with the Count, 
the old man stood up and in a clear, pleasant voice, 
said : 

“ Then I am truly well-disguised, since my lord did 
not recognize me.” 

“ Rinaldo ! ” exclaimed Roland, in amazement. 

“ Myself,” said the clever rogue. “You gave me 


166 Captain Satan, or, 

leave of absence for a day ; I have lost no time, as 
yon will see.” 

“ Indeed, is it you ? ” cried the Count, with diffi- 
culty overcoming his surprise. “You are a shrewd 
fellow, Master Einaldo, you were transformed in a 
marvelous manner.” 

“ Was I not ? ” said the valet, with a smile of satis- 
faction. “Mow, permit me to tell you what use I 
made of my new skin.” 

“ Speak quickly.” 

In a few words, Einaldo recounted the scene at 
which we assisted. 

“ I have hold of one of the threads of the plot,” 
he continued, when he reached the description of 
Cyrano’s and Castilian’s second interview ; “ Captain 
Satan’s little clerk leaves to-morrow for Périgord.” 

“ Ah ! ah ! it is there that my father’s paper is.” 

“ Precisely, in the hands of one of Bergerac’s friends.” 

“ Did you hear that friend’s name ? ” 

“Yes, they called him simply Jacques.” 

“Jacques?” repeated Poland, racking his memory 
in vain, for he had never heard of the curé of Saint- 
Sernin, and did not know about the bonds of affection 
which attached him to Cyrano. 

“ Do not mind, my lord ; I have said that I hold 
one thread. He has a letter.” 

“Addressed to this Jacques?” 

“Yes, a letter which Castilian is commissioned to 
take. Do you understand ? ” 

“ Perfectly. We must have that letter.” 

“We will have it, and that will help us to find out 
where Castilian is going, and consequently, where 
Count de Lembrat’s document is to be found.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 167 

“ But,” said the Count, with a shade of uneasiness, 
“ is there no mention in that letter of matters relative 
to my father’s papers ? ” 

“Bergerac said that the contents of that paper 
must remain a secret to the man who has it, as well 
as to Castilian.” 

“Yery well,” said the Count, evidently reassured. 
“ It will be an easy matter to get the letter ; the little 
clerk is not the man to defend it.” 

“ If he defends it, so much the worse for him ! ” 

“ When does he leave ? ” 

“ To-morrow, at daybreak.” 

“ And you ? ” 

“ I will follow him or will have him followed. Has 
not your lordship promised to trust entirely to my 
judgment ? ” 

“ Entirely.” 

“ I therefore would ask Monsieur to give me full 
and entire liberty to act. I shall have the letter from 
Castilian and Count de Lembrat’s writing, should 
I have to put all the bravos of the Pont-Neuf on 
the heels of Captain Satan and his acolyte. But,” 
insinuated Kinaldo, softly, “ I shall need more 
money.” 

Roland opened a drawer full of gold. 

“ Take all you want. You shall not lack money.” 

The valet thrust both of his hands into the gold, 
which glistened in the candle light, and tilled a long 
silk purse with it. 

“ In a few days, perhaps to-morrow,” he concluded, 
“ all will go as we wish, I hope, my lord. You will 
have the writing you so greatly desire to have, and 
you will be rid of your enemy ! ” 


168 Captain Satan, or, 

“Let there be no imprudence! Ho blood awk- 
wardly spilled ! ” 

“Rest assured. If Bergerac is killed, it will only 
be when we have nothing more to get from him. 
. . . As for Castilian. . . . ” 

“ Oh ! I give him up to you.” 

“He is small game. We will meet shortly, my 
lord, keep up hope.” 

“ Adieu, Rinaldo. I shall remember your devotion, 
and I will see that you are rewarded for it.” 

Midnight chimed when Rinaldo reached the out- 
buildings of Hôtel de Lembrat, in which were his 
lodgings. 

He changed his costume, wisely put away a part of 
his gold and left the place without delay. 

The night was dark, but Rinaldo, accustomed to 
adventures in the dark, walked through the darkness 
with a firm tread, his eyes piercing it like those of a 
cat, whose circumspect step he also had, and searched 
the deepest embrasures of the doors capable of con- 
cealing some ill-disposed fellow on the watch for be- 
lated pedestrians. 

He walked along the Seine again without having 
any annoying encounter, and knocked at the door of 
the House of Cyclops, dark and silent from base to sum- 
mit. All activity was not suspended, however, in the 
interior of the stone colossus, for, at Rinaldo’s peculiar 
rap, the door opened and Ben- Joel’s voice asked : 

“ Is it you, Rinaldo ? ” 

“ Who else could it be, at such an hour ? His Maj- 
esty Louis XIY., who has come to pay you a call, per- 
haps ? ” 

“ You are gay. All must be well.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 169 

“ You are right. Let us enter.” 

By the light of the lamp illumining the parlor, Ben- 
Joël and Kinaldo found their way through the sleep- 
ers lying pellmell on the floor, and the two men stole 
noiselessly to the Bohemian’s room. 

“ Partner,” then said the Italian, “ it is necessary to 
speak little and to act quickly. ... We need for 
to-morrow, at once, I should say, for day is near, a 
determined man, an expert swordsman, one skilled 
among the skilled, in short. Have you such an one ? ” 

“ Do you require a swordsman or a dagger expert ? ” 

“ A swordsman. Daggers will possibly have their 
rôle to play, but later on. I desire to accomplish the 
task as promptly and as discreetly as I can.” 

“ Wait,” said Ben- Joël. 

He left the room and, after an absence of several 
minutes, returned, followed by a tall personage, whose 
singular face deserves the honor of a brief description. 

His leanness was almost hyperbolic, but betokened 
sinew and strength. One could see the elasticity of 
steel beneath the wrinkles in his skin, tanned by wind 
and sun ; his feet seemed to clutch the ground like 
talons, and his rigid trunk, affixed to long legs like 
stilts, was enveloped in an old cloak, ornamented 
with braid and frayed out laces. A heavy rapier 
raised the raveled skirt of that cloak and disclosed 
breeches of greenish velvet spotted wdth oil, covered 
with holes and thrust into large boots with worn-out 
soles. 

Above that angular frame-work rose the head of 
a bird-of-prey. The nose, thin and hooked, drooped 
over a red moustache, carefully waxed ; the eyes, 
beneath overhanging brows, gave out metallic glints, 


170 


Captain Satan, or, 

and the brow, furrowed with wrinkles and scars, was 
hidden beneath a fleece of woolly hair of a bright 
red. 

That personage’s appearance did not lack a certain 
natural dignity, contrasting a little, it must be ad- 
mitted, with the tatters in which he was clothed. 

“This is,” said Ben- Joël, on presenting him to the 
Italian, “ M. Esteban de Poyastruc, a gentleman of 
good Provençal stock, whom hard times and the in- 
considerateness of the law have forced to take refuge 
in our midst. As we came up, I told him a few 
words concerning our business. If you please, com- 
plete the information.” 

M. Esteban planted himself like an interrogation 
point before Rinaldo and waited. 

“The preliminaries have been gone over,” said 
Roland’s valet, “ it is useless to touch on them again. 
Are you the man to pick a quarrel with a young 
spark and to dispatch him without scandal, my fine 
fellow?” 

“ First of all,” said Esteban, in an arrogant tone, “ I 
am not 4 your fine fellow,’ do you hear ? When I am 
spoken to, I am addressed as 4 sir.’ ” 

44 Sir, then ! ” agreed Rinaldo without any anger. 
44 Then, sir, you consent, on condition of hire . . . 

to rid us, honorably, of course, as quickly as possible. 
» 

44 If the man can defend himself, yes ; if not, no. I 
am not an assassin ; I attack to one’s face and I kill 
my adversary according to the rules,” interrupted 
Esteban, brusquely. 

44 It matters little to me, provided that the result be 
the same,” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 171 

“ Where is the subject ? ” asked the bravo, curtly, 
rapier in hand. 

“ Peste ! you are in a hurry. He will be pointed 
out to you this morning.” 

“ Where is the money ? ” 

Esteban’s brown hand, resembling a gorilla’s paw, 
was outstretched toward the Italian, who slipped into 
it ten gold pieces. 

“More,” said the Provençal. 

“ The devil ! you are exorbitant.” 

Five more pieces fell into the bandit’s hand. 

“ That will do for the present,” he replied. “ After 
the affair, you will treble the amount.” 

And as Rinaldo stared at him in amazement, Este- 
ban added : 

“ Am I to take it or leave it ? ” 

“ I have no time to argue,” said Rinaldo. “ It shall 
be trebled, but at least the deed must be done 
well.” 

The terrible Esteban looked at Rinaldo without 
speaking. And his glance was so keen, so coldly 
resolute, so calmly savage, that the Italian felt a 
slight shudder run through his frame. 

“ I see,” said he, finally, “ that I shall have some- 
thing for my money.” 

“ You have not told me the name of my adversary.” 

“His name? What is that to you? It is Cas- 
tilian ; I will undertake to have you meet him several 
leagues from Paris. You must find a pretext to pick 
a quarrel with him.” 

“From now on, you may look upon him as dis- 
patched.” 

“ But,” reflected Rinaldo, “ we need, horses, clothes. 


172 Captain Satan, or, 

Await me here. In less than an hour we shall be 
ready for that little expedition.” 

Roland’s valet made haste, and, at the very moment 
when Sulpice Castilian awoke Master Gonin and 
ordered him to saddle his horse, the three adventurers 
had made all their arrangements to surprise him with 
his foot in the stirrup, to follow him and to overtake 
him at a spot and at an hour the choice of which 
Rinaldo had reserved to himself. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 173 


XIX. 

It was four o’clock when Sulpice left Paris. The 
air was fresh, the sky clear ; the young clerk filled his 
lungs with the pure ether ; he was glad that he was 
alive and could roam at will along the high-road, and, 
as he galloped along, he remembered his master’s 
words, as well as Suzanne’s, who, as he mounted his 
horse, had given him a great deal of good advice. 

Caring naught for any danger, Castilian did not 
notice that he was followed. Five or six hundred 
paces behind him rode Ben- Joel, Binaldo and M. 
Esteban. 

The latter was the only one who presented his usual 
appearance ; only his costume was changed, he had 
put aside his rags to don a close coat of buffalo skin, 
breeches of green cloth and a very decent-looking, long 
grey cape, the whole, of course, furnished by Rinaldo. 

The bravo’s companions would not have been recog- 
nized even by their friends. Ben- Joël was disguised 
as a respectable merchant, traveling comfortably and 
carrying on his horse the luggage which common 
pedlars usually load on their backs. 

Rinaldo’s hypocritical face, metamorphosed besides 
by the means of skilful after-touches, was half hidden 
under a large felt hat with silk cords ; his cloth suit, 
simple but of good material, lent him the appearance 
of some careful provincial steward returning to his 
estate by short stages. 

All three were so different in appearance, each of 


174 Captain Satan, or, 

their persons bore a stamp so special, that to see them 
riding along thus, side by side, it never would have 
occurred to any one that a common purpose might 
unite them. One would rather have thought that, 
having met at the outset of their journey, and going 
by chance toward the same point, the three men had 
decided to go on together, in order to shorten the 
time and to make the road seem less monotonous. 

Desirous of keeping at a suitable distance, their pace 
was somewhat less rapid than Castilian’s whose at- 
tention they did not desire to attract. 

Since leaving Paris, not a word had been spoken. 
Esteban de Poyastruc cast a glance of inquiry at 
Rinaldo, but Rinaldo persisted in his silence. 

After an hour’s march, the bravo ventured to ask 
him if they would not soon stop. 

“ Not yet,” replied the valet. 

“ There is enough mystery about the killing of this 
one man ! ” said Esteban, disdainfully. 

“ Stupid ! ” cried Rinaldo. “ The little clerk is as 
well known in Paris as Captain Satan himself. He 
never leaves him any more than a dog leaves his mas- 
ter. Had we killed him last night, or if we kill him 
now, the day would not be gone before Bergerac would 
be informed of it. However, Bergerac must think he 
is on his way, or else, he might come on and incom- 
mode us greatly. We must therefore drive the sec- 
retary into some corner, where no one will know who 
he is, whence he has come or whither he is going. Do 
you understand ? ” 

“ Perfectly,” replied the Provençal. “ But if he con- 
tinues at that pace, the clerk will take us to Orléans.” 

“ Of what are you thinking, M. Esteban ? You will 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 175 

use your sword at Étampes, I tell you. Twelve leagues 
is a sufficiently long stretch to make beast and man in 
need of rest before taking the field again.” 

“ Is there a good inn at Étampes ? ” asked Esteban. 

“ I know nothing about it, having never been there. 
Moreover, we will regulate our choice in accordance 
with the young man’s. I hope he will have the sense 
to make good choice.” 

“ Bah ! ” said Ben- Joël, “ for the time he will be in 
the place, it matters little ! ” 

“ It matters a great deal ! ” replied Esteban. “ I do 
not think we will dispatch that innocent at once.” 

“ Why not ? ” asked Rinaldo. 

“Because we will arrive late, because I am very 
hungry, very thirsty too, and because I only fight 
without having breakfasted when I am forced to.” 

“ Oh ! M. Esteban,” sneered Rinaldo, taking in at a 
glance his acolyte’s slender form, “ I thought you less 
material.” 

“ Is that sarcasm ? ” asked the Provencal, knitting 
his brows formidably. 

“ Do not excite yourself,” Rinaldo hastened to add. 
“ You may eat, you may drink and you may kill your 
man at your leisure. But, he has disappeared ! ” cried 
the valet, suddenly interrupting himself, and standing 
up in his stirrups. 

Castilian had, indeed, quickened his horse’s pace 
and the three companions had lost sight of him. 

A short gallop put them on the track again. 

The rest of the journey passed off without any other 
notable incident. 

As Rinaldo had supposed, Castilian made his first 
stop at Étampes. 


176 


Captain Satan, or, 

Noon chimed when he stopped at the door of the 
Paon-Couronné and threw his reins to the stable-boy, 
who hastened to meet him. His intention was to rest 
there for a while and to set out again at dusk, in order 
to reach Orléans at one o’clock on the following day. 
A journey at night did not terrify him, and he calcu- 
lated that, by virtue of his plan, he would make two 
stages of twelve leagues on the first day, that is to say 
almost a quarter of the distance to Saint-Sernin. 

Stimulated by the ride he had just taken, the secre- 
tary’s ordinarily excellent appetite turned instinctively 
toward the kitchen. 

The conditions could not have been more favorable 
for an empty stomach. 

Noon had just chimed, as we have said, and the last 
strokes of the clock were answered by the creaking of 
the chains of the turn-spits laden with fowls and with 
viands, appetizingly cooked by the fire. 

“ You have come in the nick of time, my young sir,” 
said the innkeeper, greeting the traveler. “ One turn 
more of the spit and the roast would have been spoiled. 
What would you like ? ” 

“ Anything, provided you serve it quickly.” 

The cook hastily raised the spit and slipped the 
victuals into an immense dripping-pan, filled with 
gravy ; then, in a trice, he set a table, put a steaming 
pullet on a decorated platter, and showing Castilian 
to a seat, said : 

“ At your orders, sir. There is something to begin 
on.” 

Castilian sat down and bravely carved the pullet, 
whilst the room began to fill with people. In the 
crowd which the regular dinner hour attracted to the 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 177 

Paon-Couronné, the military element predominated. 
Indeed, the inn at which Castilian had stopped was 
patronized by a certain number of officers and subor- 
dinates of M. de Casteljaloux’s regiment, then in gar- 
rison at Étampes, and in which Cyrano had formerly 
served as captain. 

The tables were almost all filled, when Esteban de 
Poyastruc entered, followed by Ben- Joël and Binaldo. 
The bravo, as had been prearranged, was to play the 
principal rôle in the bloody comedy about to follow. 
So he spoke noisily. 

“ Ho, there,” he cried, stopping the landlord on his 
way, “ I want a seat at some table, do you hear, my 
friend? One seat for me first, then two others for 
these gentlemen, whom I had the pleasure of meeting 
on the road and who will not refuse, I fancy, to sit 
beside me.” 

The two bandits bowed. 

The landlord walked around the room with a doubt- 
ful look, then returning to Esteban, he said : 

“You see, sir, every seat is taken.” 

The Provençal pointed in the direction in which 
Castilian was seated, eating his pullet. 

“ And that table down there ? ” he asked. 

“ To be sure ! ” the innkeeper hastened to say. “ If 
the young gentleman will consent, your plate can be 
put beside his.” 

“ It will be strange if he does not consent, after I 
have asked him.” 

At those words, Esteban, hat in hand, a smile on his 
disagreeable face, advanced toward Castilian, before 
whom he bowed with rather exaggerated politeness. 

“ Sir,” he began. 


178 


Captain Satan, or, 

Sulpice raised his head and, in astonishment stared 
at the strange personage in front of him. 

“ Sir,” resumed the latter with imperturbable cool- 
ness, “ you see in me a respectable gentleman pursued 
by misfortune. I have come to this inn as hungry as 
a wolf ; I have come, moreover, with two travelers 
who have honored me with their company, and whom 
I should be happy to treat. But, I cannot find a table 
that is not occupied, saving yours. I therefore venture 
to beg you to be kind enough to consent to share it 
with us.” 

Having listened patiently to that supplication, Cas- 
tilian turned toward the two “ travelers,” whom the 
Provençal had introduced at the same time as himself, 
and their appearance did not prepossess him. 

However he was too courteous to refuse the request 
made so politely by Esteban. 

“ I am happy to be able to oblige you, gentlemen,” 
said he. “ The table is large for one ; for four it will 
probably be too small ; but that does not matter, we 
can sit a trifle close. Be seated, I pray you.” 

“ You are a fine fellow,” cried Esteban, “ and I will 
drink a bottle to your health.” 

“ To his health ! ” thought Ben- Joël. “ That is what 
might be called wreathing his victim in garlands.” 

Thanks to the innkeeper’s solicitude, the table was 
soon set, and by the manner in which Esteban de 
Poyastruc attacked the repast, his companions soon 
saw that far from being able to fight before break- 
fasting, as he had seemed to fear, he might have to 
fight in a state of intoxication, which caused them not 
a little uneasiness. 

But Esteban deported himself in a manner which 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 179 

reassured them. The large bumpers he continued to 
drain seemed to give more firmness to his glance and 
more clearness to his speech ; instead of becoming con- 
fused, his face brightened. When the meal was almost 
ended, he winked his eye at his acolytes, as if to say 
to them : 

“ Attention, I am about to operate.” 

That signal was not lost to Castilian ; and his sus- 
picions were at once aroused. 

Cyrano had posted him sufficiently as to the manoeu- 
vres of the Count’s hirelings, so that the slightest de- 
tail should not pass unnoticed by him, and he had 
classed M. Esteban’s advances under the head of some 
of those plots. 

He rose to leave the room ; the Provençal detained 
him, saying : 

“ You are not going to leave us thus, I hope ? ” 

“ Pardon me,” replied Castilian, “ my time is lim- 
ited.” 

“ Bah ! limited as it is, can you not sacrifice one 
hour of your time ? Before parting let us empty to- 
gether one bottle of this Canary wine.” 

“ Very well ! ” agreed Castilian, reseating himself. 

When the wine served in glasses had put one more 
bond between the four guests, Esteban insinuated : 

“ Pshaw ! To drink without doing anything, is fas- 
tidious. A dice-box and some dice would serve op- 
portunely to divert us. What do you think about 
it?” 

“ I think,” replied Castilian, curtly, irritated by the 
persistence on Esteban’s part in imposing his society 
upon him, “ I think it is high time to think of leaving. 
Besides, I do not like gaming, and I never play.” 


180 


Captain Satan, or, 

The Provençal gnawed his moustache, and in a tone 
of annoyance, asked : 

“ That is to say, sir, that you consider my proposi- 
tion improper ? ” 

“Not at all. I confine myself to regretting that 
my tastes differ from yours. That is all.” 

“ That means that mine are bad, that I am a gam- 
bler, in plain language. Sir, do you know that you 
have insulted me?” thundered Esteban, straightening 
himself up angrily. 

“Not the least bit in the world,” replied the clerk, 
calmly, heeding little the bravo’s irritated air; “on 
the contrary, it seems to me to be you who are trying 
to pick a quarrel with me.” 

“ A quarrel ? Zounds, if you dislike fighting as you 
do dice r throwing, the quarrels picked with you will 
affect you very little.” 

“ Surely,” thought Castilian, on hearing that provo- 
cation, “ de Lembrat is at the bottom of this. It is 
annoying to begin the campaign with a duel ; but, so 
much the worse! That shabby fellow cannot scare 
me with his sparrow-hawk’s eyes.” 

Reflecting thus, the clerk rose, rested his two hands 
on the table, and looking the bravo full in the face, he 
said to him in a mild tone : 

“Sir, when will you please to cease this little 
joke ? ” 

“ One word ! ” cried the other. “Will you play or 
will you not ? ” 

“ I will not play.” 

“ Then, will you fight ? ” 

“ I will.” 

The bully bowed. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 181 

“ I regret,” said he, “ that our dinner has ended in 
this fashion, but you wished it so. We will now, if 
you please, settle this little matter. Have you sec- 
onds ? ” 

“ I will find them,” replied Castilian, looking at the 
group of officers, who had come up at the sound of 
the quarrel. 

“ Will you, sirs, assist me ? ” asked Esteban of Ben- 
Joël and Binaldo. 

“ Undoubtedly,” replied the latter. “We are, this 
gentleman and I, unaccustomed to such affairs; but 
we would be unkind to refuse you that favor.” 

“ Let us go.” 

“ One moment,” interrupted Castilian, “ are you in 
such haste to fight ? ” 

“ The sooner the better.” 

“ It would be better for me this evening, for I have 
several matters to attend to before our meeting.” 

“This evening, then. We will fight by the light of 
a lantern.” 

“ If agreeable to you, I consent.” 

And Castilian withdrew. 

A half-hour later, he had found seconds : two offi- 
cers of Casteljaloux’s regiment, who, at the mere 
mention of Cyrano’s name, had eagerly offered him 
their services. 

Esteban, left alone with his acolytes, looked at 
them, with a toss of his head. 

“ Do you know that which I proposed to him ? ” he 
asked. 

“ What?” 

“ A duel by lantern.” 

“Well?” 


182 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ In order to fight in that way, sirs, one must not be 
a novice ; one must know ail the fine points of duel- 
ing. I thought you had thrown me with a gosling, 
but I think I have to deal with a young cock, if I am 
not mistaken.” 

“The devil!” cried Einaldo, “what if he should 
kill you ? ” 

The bravo smiled with satisfaction. 

“ Make yourself easy, my dear. I will show you 
to-night how to lay an opponent out.” 

Castilian spent the remainder of the day in his 
room, where he wrote a lengthy epistle to Cyrano. 

The letter finished, he entrusted it to one of his 
seconds, bidding him take it to Paris in case he should 
come to grief, and the officer promised to do as he 
asked him. 

Then the clerk made several thrusts in order to take 
the rust out of his wrist and seemed satisfied with his 
trial. A pupil of Cyrano in the art of fencing, he 
was not at all uneasy in the presence of the danger 
he was about to meet, and, the thought of that duel 
by lantern, with the rules of which he was perfectly 
familiar, and of which Esteban seemed to make so 
much, caused him but little preoccupation. When the 
hour of the duel struck, the clerk went downstairs, 
escorted by his seconds, and met Esteban and his 
acolytes in the coffee-room. 

“I have provided myself with the necessary ob- 
jects,” said the bravo. “ The landlord has loaned us 
a dark lantern, and I think that my cloak is suffi- 
ciently full to be used in the present case.” 

“ Certainly,” said Castilian. “ Come, sirs.” 

J3ehind the inn was a small court, the ground of 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 183 

which, firm and strong, afforded an excellent spot for 
the duel. 

Here they stopped, each of the parties interested 
judging wisely that it was not necessary to admit the 
public into their confidence, nor to brave the law too 
openly. 

Esteban placed the lighted lantern on the ground 
beside the cloak, and approaching Castilian, said: 

“This time, sir, no matter what you think, you 
must make up your mind to throw the dice against 
me. It is the way in which we obtain the right of 
choosing our means of defence.” 

“The stake is worth the trouble of changing my 
mind. Where are the dice ? ” 

“ Here they are. Throw first, sir.” 

Sulpice took the box, shook the dice a moment and 
threw them on the ground, in the ray of light thrown 
out by the lantern. 

“ Six and two ! ” he announced, bending over to see 
the dots. 

“ Well done ! ” cried Esteban, gathering up the dice 
in his turn. 

“ Four and six ! ” said he, having played. “ Two 
more than you, sir, I choose.” 

With these words, he seized the lantern, after draw- 
ing his sword. 

Castilian took the cape and rolled it around his left 
arm. 

The duel by lantern was what is called a hand-to- 
hand duel ; it required a great deal of skill, a great 
deal of strategy, and was often fatal to both adver- 
saries. 

The one, armed with the lantern, had now to throw 


184 Captain Satan, or, 

the light into his enemy’s eyes, now to veil it ab- 
ruptly ; for his buckler the other had the cloak which 
deadened the force of the blows and which he could 
use, as the Roman used his net, to involve his antag- 
onist in. 

“When you please, sir,” said Castilian, guarding 
and standing not sideways, but with chest to the fore, 
protected by his left arm covered with the cloak, and 
his body bent slightly forward. 

“ I am here,” replied the bravo. 

The light suddenly disappeared ; Esteban had just 
slipped it behind him. 

Dense darkness enveloped the combatants, and a 
fierce thrust, warded off, however, advised Castilian 
that he was in the presence of a formidable antago- 
nist. 

His eyes commenced to grow accustomed to the 
darkness. He could indistinctly see the bully’s sil- 
houette and could feel his sword as if rivetted to his. 
He clashed the sword, made a rapid thrust and a 
lunge. 

“Well done!” cried Esteban, raising the clerk’s 
weapon with a vigorous blow. 

At the same time, a ray of light struck Castilian full 
in the eyes. Blinded, he retreated, though notwith- 
standing, he felt the point of the Provençal’s sword in 
his breast. 

It was but a slight scratch. The cloak had neutral- 
ized the force of the blow. 

Esteban had relied so greatly on that thrust that he 
drew back his sword, expecting to see Castilian fall. 

“ He is standing, God forgive me ! ” he exclaimed, 
after a brief pause. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 185 

“ To serve you out,” replied Castilian, returning to 
the charge with fury. 

The lantern commenced a new game. It began to 
dance like an ignis fatuus in Esteban’s hand, contin- 
ually deceiving the clerk as to the bully’s true posi- 
tion, now lighting him up from head to foot, now 
throwing a light at his side, following him, annoying 
him without end. 

He was obliged to reply to those tactics. 

Castilian raised his left arm and began to whirl the 
cloak around in the air, like the immense wing of a 
night-hawk. 

The light flickered, and the Provençal feared it 
would be extinguished. That must be stopped. 

He struck out as if to fell Castilian. 

The clerk took advantage of that instant. He 
struck the lantern one blow with his • cloak ; it fell 
from Esteban’s hands, and at the same time Cas- 
tilian thrust his sword into the Provençal’s breast. 

“ Ah ! ” shrieked the bully, falling heavily on the 
ground. 

And as Einaldo bent over him, the wretch articu- 
lated with difficulty : 

“I told you, he was not a gosling . . . but 

. . . but a cock.” 

That was all. M. Esteban de Poyastruc was dead. 

“ Sir,” said Castilian to his second, “ you may re- 
turn my letter to me. It is of no use, now.” 


186 


Captain Satan, or, 


XX. 

Sulpice had just escaped one great danger : he was 
not long in falling into another. 

Whilst he retired with the two officers who had as- 
sisted him, Ben- Joel and Kinaldo held a conference, 
and a new plan was concocted. 

They returned to the inn, where they found Cas- 
tilian, supping with his seconds. 

“ Sir,” said Kinaldo to him, obsequiously, “ what has 
just taken place can in no way alter the kindly feeling 
which existed between us this morning. We only 
knew your adversary from having met him on the 
road, and we must confess that he was wrong in in- 
sulting you in such an unforeseen manner. He was, 
no doubt, intoxicated ; that moment cost him dear 
enough for you no longer to bear him any ill-will. 
Pray be kind enough to bear us no malice, and since 
we are together again, let us get better acquainted.” 

Before replying, the clerk examined the speaker 
keenly, and a vague reminiscence re-awoke his suspi- 
cions. Kinaldo was sufficiently well disguised not to 
be easily recognized, but he had been unable to dis- 
guise his voice as perfectly as his features, and that 
voice Castilian had heard ring in his ears at some- 
time. 

Discontinuing his scrutiny, he deemed it prudent, 
notwithstanding, to be upon his guard, and replied, 
coldly : 

Believe me, sir, that I bear the poor devil no 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 187 

grudge for allowing himself to be killed, nor you for 
having supported him on the dueling-ground, but our 
acquaintance cannot continue, as you wish it to. I 
shall set out in fifteen minutes, and probably I will 
not take the same road that you do.” 

“ Who knows ? ISTo doubt you are going to 
Orléans,” insinuated Ben- Joël, who up to that time 
had not spoken. 

“ Possibly.” 

“Then, sir, it is a strange coincidence. We are 
going to Orléans also; w r e did not expect to leave 
until to-morrow morning, for the roads are not very 
safe; but when under your protection, and for the 
pleasure of your company, we will venture to go with 
you.” 

Those words were uttered by Binaldo with such 
suavity, that Castilian might have been affected by it, 
had he not already been warned against travelers’ de- 
signs. 

He knit his brows, and with an air which admitted 
of no reply, he said : 

“ Thank you again, sir. I advise you to sleep in 
peace to-night and to let me depart. I do not need to 
be escorted, and I particularly like solitude.” 

“ Ah î I can see, sir,” rejoined Binaldo, piteously, 
“that you cannot forgive us the innocent part we 
took in your quarrel. Accept our regrets, and may 
God watch over you.” 

“ Good-evening ! ” concluded the clerk, brusquely, 
turning his back to the hypocritical personage, who 
saluted him by bowing to the ground. 

The two bandits retired ; but, instead of mounting 
to their rooms, as Sulpice had politely advised them, 


188 


Captain Satan, or, 

they stole toward the stable, had their horses saddled 
and left the Paon-Couronné by stealth. 

“We have lost our auxiliary; we must change our 
tactics,” said Rinaldo to his companion. “Hitherto 
we have followed the little clerk, it will be better to 
precede him.” 

“ What is your plan ? ” 

“ It is very simple. I intend to send the secretary 
to join your friend Esteban.” 

“How?” 

“With these.” 

And Rinaldo drew from their holsters a pair of 
heavy pistols. 

Ren- Joël was armed in the same fashion. He 
asked no other questions, having grasped the valet’s 
meaning at once, and the two men urged their horses 
toward the road to Orléans, which the moon was 
illumining with her first rays. 

In spite of the entreaties of the officers with whom 
he had supped, Castilian persisted in his determination ; 
he would set out that very night. 

His horse was rested and ready to make another 
stage of the journey ; on the stroke of ten, the clerk 
leaped into the saddle and galloped through the 
silent streets. In fifteen minutes he was in the open 
country, while, before him, stretched like an inter- 
minable white ribbon, the road he had to follow to go 
straight to Orléans. 

The moon was shining at its full and guided the 
traveler, who made his way along as easily as if it 
were broad daylight. 

As far as he could see the plains seemed deserted ; 
he rode on without mistrust, already considering the 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 189 

events of that day as a sort of dream and gradually 
losing sight of Esteban in his mind, when a distant 
neigh interrupted his thoughts. 

There was no house round about. 

Castilian, in some surprise, wondered where that 
sound could have come from. 

The road, in that spot, ran through patches of 
timber, intermixed with dense brushwood, sombre 
masses, making spots on the light earth. 

Evidently, that suspicious neighing must have come 
from there. Evil-doers were perhaps hidden in the 
depths of the copse, perhaps Sulpice was about to 
meet some inoffensive, belated horseman, whom the 
turnings in the road might have hidden from his sight. 

A more prudent man would surely have made up 
his mind to stop or to turn back, foreseeing some sort 
of danger ; urged forward by his adventurous nature, 
as well as by the urgency of his errand, Castilian gave 
his horse the spurs and decided to cross the road at 
any risk. 

At the turning in the road, a shot was heard 
and a bullet whistled by the ears of Cyrano’s mes- 
senger. 

The clerk thought it best not to face his invisible 
assailant. 

He had to save his strength for a better occasion ; 
consequently, he leaned over his horse’s neck and 
darted off at a full gallop. 

A second discharge rent the silence of the night. 
That shot did not come from the same point as the 
preceding one ; it had been fired some fifty feet 
further off and, if Castilian had been struck, it could 
only have been in his breast. 


190 


Captain Satan, or, 

An exclamation answered the sound of the dis- 
charge. Then the clerk flung himself backward, 
while his horse, mad with terror, bore him across the 
fields at an inordinate pace. 

“He is caught,” then cried Ben-Joël, issuing from 
the copse, where he had been in ambuscade. 

Rinaldo ran toward him. 

“ Did you hit him ? ” he asked the Bohemian. 

“ I think so. I distinctly saw him loosen his hold 
on the reins and fall on the crupper of his horse 
which ran away and has probably flung him into some 
bog.” 

“ Then he is dead.” 

“ Without any doubt.” 

“ Good,” said Rinaldo, “ but . . . the letter.” 

“That is true, we must have that. Well, let us 
hunt our game ; he cannot have fallen very far away.” 

The two murderers leaped into their saddles and 
rushed away on Castilian’s track. 

For two hours they searched copse and glade in 
vain. 

Ho sign revealed to them the presence of or the 
road taken by him whom he desired to rejoin. 

“ The devil,” said Rinaldo, “ this is a hard task. I 
had rather know my man to be living and to be sure 
of finding him again, than to think him lying in 
some hole where he might rot without our discover- 
ing him.” 

“Let us take the road again,” advised Ben-Joël. 
“ What use is there in persevering in a useless search ? ” 

“ You are right. We must, at all hazards, go as far 
as Orléans.” 

The failure of their attempt had rendered the two 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 191 

wretches very pensive ; they rode along side by side 
without speaking, and in no haste to complete their 
journey. Perhaps they wished to defer as long as 
possible the moment when their last hope would 
vanish. 

At about a league from the spot in which they had 
just executed their project of murder, they saw at 
their right a large fire, around which ten persons were 
grouped. 

Near the group stood a wagon, and two strong 
horses. 

A third horse was lying on the grass a little further 
on. 

All the shadows stood out darkly in the bright 
moonlight ; our travelers, at first sight, could not tell 
with what sort of people they had to deal. 

The small band were sheltered by a mound covered 
with low trees ; the side of the mound dug out for the 
purpose of obtaining sand, afforded a convenient ref- 
uge. From the summit could easily be seen what 
was going on in the heart of the encampment, and the 
personages crouching or standing before the fire could 
be recognized. 

“Partner Rinaldo,” said Ben-Joël, “we must not 
omit one detail. I propose to watch these people.” 

“ I was about to say so to you.” 

“ Let us be prudent.” 

Combining example with precept, Ben- Joël alighted, 
muffled his horse’s head in his cloak, in order to pre- 
vent him from neighing, and led him into a thicket, 
where he tied him to the low boughs of an ash. 

Rinaldo observed the same precautions. 

“ Await me here,” then said he to the Bohemian. 


192 


Captain Satan, or, 

And stealing along the trees, he reached, without 
being seen, a mass of grey stones, on which the light 
of the fire, burning a hundred feet further on, was 
growing fainter. 

Arrived there, he could walk with less prudence; 
he went around the wooded elevation, and, climbing 
the slope opposite the road, reached the summit in 
two minutes, from which point he could look into the 
centre of the group. 

Within it, was seated a man, who seemed, for the 
moment, to be the object of general attention. 

An exclamation of surprise escaped Ben- Joël on 
recognizing Castilian. 

The young man’s experience can be told in a few 
words. 

Ben- Joel’s bullet had really struck him in the middle 
of his body, but fortunately, on striking him, it had 
encountered the large copper buckle of his belt, on 
which it had been flattened. 

The shock, however, had been so great that it de- 
prived the clerk of his breath and he fainted. 

As we have seen, the horse carried him on a mad 
course, until, stopped by the light of fire sparkling be- 
fore him, he halted abruptly, throwing brave Sulpice 
out of the stirrups. 

The clerk had fallen in the grass. 

When consciousness returned, he had been carried 
near the fire and was in the midst of a strange com- 
pany of men and of women who, at the first glance, 
he recognized as strolling players. 

These excellent people were camping in the open 
air simply to save the expense of lodgings at an inn. 

Sulpice, revived by two or three swallows of whisky, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 193 

told his deliverers about his adventure, and, as the 
showmen were going to Orléans too, it was agreed 
that the clerk should spend the night with them, and 
that at daybreak they would all set out for the city. 

Having recovered from his astonishment at Castil- 
ian’s resurrection, the Bohemian began to examine 
in turn the faces of the company. 

In the course of that examination, his eyes rested 
on a woman, standing at the right of the clerk, and 
an expression of radiant delight lighted up his face. 

“ Marotte ! ” he could not help murmuring, sending 
a courteous salutation to the woman, although she 
could not see it. 

“ Marotte ! ” repeated the Bohemian. “ This time, 
I am sure of success.” 

After that reflection, he left his post and rejoined 
Rinaldo, to whom he related all he had seen. 

“Will you let me act ?” he added, without giving 
his partner time to recover from his surprise. 

“ If you will, we will have Bergerac’s letter to-mor- 
row.” 

“ By what means ? ” 

“ Hitherto violence has failed us with that accursed 
clerk. We need something else.” 

“Well?” 

“ I have found it.” 

“ You believe we will get the letter ? ” 

“ If we do not, I hope that the gibbet on which I 
shall some day be hung may rise before me, provided 
with its rope.” 

“ All right ! From this moment, I place myself at 
your mercy. Where are we going ? ” 

“We will remain here; before recommencing the 


194 Captain Satan, or, 

chase, we must wait until our bird has taken his 
flight.” 

The two adventurers stretched themselves in the 
grass, to watch the movements of the small band. 

The strollers’ circle was broken. 

With the exception of one single man watching near 
the fire for the general safety, the entire troupe slept, 
awaiting the hour of departure. 


i 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 195 


XXI. 

“ Start ! ” cried the watchman, at the first rays of 
dawn. 

The showmen rose; in a trice the wagon was 
loaded with all the camping material. 

Castilian, still suffering from the severe contusion 
he had received, mounted his horse, notwithstanding, 
without much pain, and the entire troupe moved off 
in the direction of Orléans. 

Ben- Joël and Rinaldo left several moments later. 
The clerk did not suspect their presence. In spite of 
his first suspicions, he believed them still at Êtampes 
and attributed the attack of the preceding night to 
common evil-doers. 

At the gates of Orléans Sulpice took leave of his 
new friends who, putting up at a wretched inn in the 
outskirts, pointed out to their traveling companion, as 
a lodging more worthy of him, the tavern of the 
Armes de France, whither the pitiful state of their 
finances forbade their accompanying him. 

The clerk discreetly slipped several pistoles into the 
hand of the chief of the band in order to repay him 
for his kind offices and turned in the direction of the 
large square where glistened the sign of the Armes de 
France. 

The players were scarcely installed in their miser- 
able hovel, when Ben- Joël arrived there. 

The Bohemian was alone. He had prudently ad- 
vised Rinaldo to keep out of the way, hoping to dis- 


196 


Captain Satan, or, 

appear in his turn, when the execution of his plan 
should be assured. 

On entering the tavern, he saw the landlord about 
to set a long table intended no doubt for the travelers. 

“Master,” said Ben-Joël to him, without preamble, 
“ do you know those people who have just arrived ? ” 

“ Do I know them ! ” exclaimed the tavern-keeper. 
“ They have stopped at my house for ten years. They 
always come for the fetes” 

“ In that case, you are not unfamiliar with the 
name of Marotte.” 

“ The dancer ! Oh ! what beautiful eyes she has, 
sir!” 

“ You know her well. Where is she at present ? ” 

“ In her room. Do you wish to speak to her ? ” 

“ Yery likely. Where is that room, if you pleasè ? ” 

“ But, sir, who are you who ask so boldly to enter 
Mile. Marotte’s room ? ” 

“ Fear not, good man, I am one of her friends and 
have no designs on her virtue, which I have known of 
for a long time.” 

At the word “ virtue ” uttered by the Bohemian, 
the tavern-keeper winked his eye wickedly, as if to 
say that he knew what to think of his lodger’s moral 
temperament. 

“ On the first floor, the door to the right,” he then 
directed, deeming it useless to offer more objections. 

Ben- Joël bounded up the stairs two at a time, and, 
guided by a woman’s voice, he reached Marotte’s 
door. 

The young woman was dressing, and while giving 
a gloss to her black hair, she sang without caring that 
her light rhymes might annoy her neighbors. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 197 

At the first glance, it was easy to recognize her as 
a child of the gypsy race. 

She was dark and her large, fascinating, black eyes, 
her sensual lips, as red as blood, her quivering nos- 
trils, bespoke her origin. 

Her supple, well-developed form was clothed in a 
woolen tunic, beneath which she wore a dancer’s light 
costume. 

She was, indeed, a seductive creature, and although 
she did not possess Zilla’s dignified sculptural beauty, 
she offered on the other hand the irresistible charm of 
a savory fruit which leans of itself toward the hand 
ready to gather it. 

Her sportive temperament had earned for her the 
surname of Marotte (fool’s bauble). 

Ben- Joël recognized in her a daughter of his tribe, 
who for a long time had been with a troupe of travel- 
ing comedians when he was. 

Having watched her for an instant from the thresh- 
old of the room, the Bohemian decided to enter. 

At the sound of his footsteps, Marotte turned 
around, and cried joyfully : 

“ You here ?” 

“ I am, but, sh ! do not speak my name.” 

“ Is there a mystery ? Whence come you ? Where 
is Zilla ? I have heard nothing about you for two 
years.” 

“ I will tell you about us. At present, there is a 
question of something else, and if you are in a reason- 
able enough mood to listen to me without interrupt- 
ing, I will tell you what I want.” 

“Wait until I finish.” 

While Marotte dressed her hair, Ben-J oël carefully 


198 


Captain Satan, or, 

closed the door, sounded the walls to assure himself 
that they were safe, and then took his seat on a stool 
near the window. 

“ There ! ” cried the danseuse , casting a satisfied 
glance in the fragment of a mirror which reflected her 
smiling image, “ now, you can speak. I am all ears.” 

Ben- Joel’s conversation with Marotte lasted more 
than an hour. 

At the end of that time, the adventurer issued from 
the room with the air of a man who has just satisfac- 
torily concluded a difficult negotiation. 

“Until to-night,” said he to the young woman on 
leaving her. “And above all, do not forget the 
signal.” 

“You may rest assured I will not, and leave me 
now, if you want me to arrive in time.” 

Ben- Joël vanished discreetly and went in search of 
Binaldo, while Marotte, instead of taking a seat at the 
table prepared for her comrades, got ready to leave 
the tavern. 

Before setting out, she conferred several moments 
with the chief of the band ; then, her head covered with 
a hood which almost entirely hid her features, and 
carrying a bundle of clothes in her hand, she turned 
her steps in the direction of the Armes de France, 
where, as we know, Castilian was stopping. 

At the door of the inn, a groom was saddling a 
horse, which Marotte quickly recognized as Sulpice’s. 

The animal, although having rested two hours, still 
showed signs of recent fatigue. 

His hoofs showed the marks of the muddy roads, 
and his hair, perfectly dry, was pasted in patches on 
his back. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 199 

“ Fine beast ! ” said Marotte, patting the horse with 
her hand. 

“ Fine girl ! ” replied the groom, glancing caress- 
ingly at the dancer’s features. 

“ That is a princely steed,” said the latter, without 
noticing the groom’s compliment. 

“ And strong too ! ” added the man, desirous of sus- 
taining the conversation. “ He has made I know not 
how many leagues this morning, and will reach Rom- 
orantin by night.” 

Marotte heaved a sigh. 

“ I am going there on foot ! ” she murmured. 

“ On foot, why it is twelve leagues, my dear ! ” 

“ I know it. Perhaps I may meet some kind person 
who will offer me a seat in his wagon.” 

And the gypsy continued on her way, at a rapid 
gait, as if she were in haste to make up the time lost 
by that exchange of words. 

She passed the gates of Orléans, without slackening 
her pace, and was soon on the road to Romorantin. 

We must not omit to say that on leaving the place 
d’Orléans, Marotte had jostled against a man standing 
absently at a corner of the street and had spoken a 
few words to him in a low voice. 

That man was Ben- J oël. 

The danseuse was more than a league from the 
city, when Castilian decided to set out. 

The clock had just struck three ; the clerk counted 
on reaching Romorantin at sunset. 

“I hope,” he said to himself, as he rode along, 
“ that I shall have no more disagreeable adventures. 
A duel and a pistol-shot are enough, I think, to pay 
for my future peace.” 


200 


Captain Satan, or, 

The secretary felt in his doublet and there was the 
letter inside the lining, the letter, which, for twenty- 
four hours, he had been unwittingly defending against 
invisible enemies. 

Finding that it was safe, Castilian, relieved of all 
care, allowed his horse to take him along at his pleas- 
ure, and taking advantage of a long ascent the beast 
was obliged to make at a walk, he drew forth his tab- 
lets and began to complete a sonnet begun before his 
departure from Paris. 

As he was trying his puncheon and racking his 
brain in the pursuit of a fugitive rhyme, a clear voice 
called him by his name. 

He turned his head and saw, seated by the road- 
side, the young girl whom he had no difficulty in rec- 
ognizing as having seen the night before by the 
showmen’s fire. 

Marotte had thrown her hood on her shoulders, and 
her head was disclosed to the light ; her tiny feet, 
grey with dust, were crossed one over the other in the 
grass ; her entire attitude bespoke fatigue betrayed in 
the most bewitching fashion by her languishing pose. 

Castilian stopped, as he recognized the dancer. 

“Good-day, M. Castilian,” repeated Marotte with 
a pretty toss of her head, and a smile. 

“ How is it that I meet you here, my dear child ! ” 
asked the clerk in astonishment. “ Have you left M. 
Aracan ? I believe that is your employer’s name.” 

“ It is. Why, yes, I have left him. He is a selfish 
old fellow. He intended to reduce my share, to his 
profit, in the money we would earn at Orléans.” 

“ Well ? ” 

“Well, I have a quick temper and an imprudent 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 201 

tongue ; I called him scrape-penny, and flung my tam- 
bourine in his face.” 

“ The result being that you are here without any 
resources ? ” 

“Not altogether. I am ready to join another com- 
pany, and, in case of necessity, I can make my living 
alone, having with me all I need to keep me from 
want : my castagnettes and my costume de ballet .” 

“You are a philosopher, I can see.” 

Marotte smiled. 

“ I have to be. When one is nothing, when one has 
nothing, and when one is going one knows not where, 
to reach there one knows not when, how would you 
have one notice the petty trials of life ? ” 

“ The devil ! That avows that you are altogether 
ruined and that your destination is very uncer- 
tain ! ” 

“ Not so much as you think. Now here, I am going 
to Romorantin and possibly to Loches.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Castilian, with a glance of evident sat- 
isfaction. 

“ In one of those two towns there is a company of 
comedians and of dancers, who will not refuse to en- 
gage me, for my name is known to them, by your 
leave ! ” 

“ It is Marotte, is it not ? ” 

“ At your service, M. Castilian.” 

“ And you intend to reach Romorantin on foot ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly, since I have not the means to ride 
in a carriage.” 

“ Well, charming Marotte, it shall not be said that 
a gallant man allowed your tiny feet to perform such 
hard work. We will ride on, if you please, together. 


202 


Captain Satan, or, 

Here is, moreover, an excellent opportunity for me to 
repay you for the care you gave me last night.” 

“ I would like nothing better than to accept your 
offer, but how is it to be done ? ” ventured Marotte, 
secretly delighted at the turn affairs were taking. 

“ It is very simple. I cannot offer you my horse 
and follow you on foot, for I must make a quick trip. 
But my horse is strong enough to carry us both, if 
you will agree to it.” 

“ With all my heart, sir. I will never have had so 
pleasant a journey.” 

“ Come, then.” 

Castilian leaped nimbly to the ground, took from 
Marotte’s hands, for, as she talked, she had approached 
him, the small bundle she carried and flattening it 
into a cushion, fastened it to the horse’s crupper. 

“ That is perfect,” said Marotte. “ I shall be like a 
queen up there. The only difficulty will be to mount 
your horse, which is as high as a cathedral. You will 
have to lift me.” 

“ That will be easy ; your hand, my dear.” 

Instead of extending her hand, Marotte unceremo- 
niously flung her two arms around Castilian’s neck, and 
the clerk felt the dancer’s warm and perfumed breath 
fan his cheek, while a velvety glance from the 
beauty’s half-closed lids, penetrated to his very 
soul. 

Notwithstanding his confusion, Castilian lifted Ma- 
rotte as if she were a feather, and seated her on the 
cushion prepared for her. 

While the adventuress gathered up the reins, the 
clerk had time to recover from his emotion. 

“ Stupid that I am,” he said, finally, “ I did not 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 203 

think that I should have to sit in the saddle in front. 
What shall I do now ? ” 

“ Must I get down ? ” asked the charmer, again ex- 
tending her arms to her cavalier. 

“No ! wait, I can save you that trouble.” 

Castilian seized his horse’s mane with his riedit 

O 

hand, at the side, and turning his back thus to the 
animal, he raised himself at one bound, without touch- 
ing the stirrup and lighted on the saddle in a sitting 
posture. After which he quickly passed his right leg 
over the horse’s neck and was in proper position. 

“ There ! ” said he to Marotte. “ Hold on to me, if 
you please, and do not be afraid to hold tight, for we 
are going fast.” 

That advice was superfluous. 

Castilian had not finished speaking when Marotte’s 
arms were around his body, a living belt which 
pressed him to her breast. 

The situation was dangerous to a heart as inflam- 
mable as that of the young clerk. 

To ride ten leagues thus, to feel in his ear and on 
his neck the girl’s sweet breath, and above all to feel 
instinctively the frailness of the vagabondish virtue, 
was, we must confess, too strong a temptation for 
Castilian’s doubtful stoicism. 

“ Why not ? ” he asked himself, after reflecting a 
long time, an analysis of which reflections we will not 
undertake to analyze. 

“ Of what are you thinking ? ” asked Marotte’s 
playful voice at the same time. “ Are you sad, sir.” 

“Sad? Ho,” the clerk hastened to reply, “that 
would be an insult to you.” 

“You are gallant. Is not this way of traveling 


204 Captain Satan, or, 

charming ? The ride, the air, the sun, all delight the 
soul and till you with an inexpressibly sweet emotion. 
One feels pleased to be living, and one would like to 
ride thus for hours.” 

Marotte’s hands pressed Castilian’s breast a little 
closer, at the same time they neared his lips by two or 
three inches. 

The clerk could not resist that, and at the risk of 
twisting his neck, he bent his head and furtively 
kissed the pretty fingers crossed on the cord on his collar. 

“ Ah ! what are you doing ? ” murmured Marotte, 
moving her hands as if to punish the clerk for his im- 
pudence. 

“ Zounds ! ” cried the latter, “ what would you 
have ? One finds a pretty hand within one’s reach ; 
one cools one’s lips upon it. What more natural ? ” 

“ You abuse your advantages, sir. If you do not 
promise me to be more careful, I will do without your 
support, at the risk of falling on the road.” 

“ Be very careful. I promise to be prudent.” 

In spite of his protestations, Castilian could not re- 
sist the pleasure of repeating the same offence. 

“Come,” said Marotte, “you are incorrigible. 
Since there is no way of getting satisfaction from you, 
I must treat you as they do children, to whom they 
give what they are trying to obtain, in order that 
their fancy may pass away.” 

At the same time, Marotte’s right hand was raised 
to Castilian’s lips and he covered it madly with kisses. 

Then, not content with the first conquest and feel- 
ing Marotte’s brown curls fluttering near his cheek, 
he turned his head abruptly and put out his lips at a 
venture, au jugé , as the huntsman would say. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 205 

The kiss, given so blindly, brushed a corner of the 
dancer’s lips, and she flung* herself back, crying : 

“ Ah ! ah ! traitor, is this the way you repay my 
kindness ? Then you will lose all in trying to obtain 
all.” 

And again Marotte’s arms descended from the 
elevated position they occupied and were clasped on 
Castilian’s breast at an equal distance from his belt 
and his collar. 

“ Come,” said the clerk, “ you are charming, why 
wish to be so only half-way ? Confess that the journey 
would be monotonous did not one have some loving 
diversion. Were I to tell you that I am greatly smit- 
ten with your charms, what would you reply ? ” 

“ I should reply that you were very wicked to wish 
to deceive a poor girl, for I have had experience, sir, 
although I have maintained my virtue.” 

These words were uttered in an ingenuous tone. 
But Castilian had already gone too far in that adven- 
ture to mind those words, contradicted by the adven- 
turess’ well-feigned embarrassment. 

“ Ah ! only Marotte of my heart,” he cried, “ if I 
did not by ill-chance have to turn my back to you, or, 
if I had two eyes in the back of my head, you could 
see that I love you ! ” 

“ I have nothing to do with your looks, sir coxcomb. 
Keep them for others, if you please.” 

“ Accursed situation,” grumbled the clerk. “To 
know that you are near me, and that I cannot see 
you, cannot drink in your beauty. . . 

“You are wasting your eloquence, M. Castilian. 
If you desire to look in my face, moreover, you will 
have to enjoy that pleasure without allowing your 


206 


Captain Satan, or, 

admiration to cause me to run any risk, for I can see 
the steeple of Eomorantin at the end of the plain, and 
I will leave you there.” 

“ Ah ! corbleu ! that is what we should see,” cried 
the clerk, who had certainly lost all caution. “ I stop 
at Eomorantin too, and, my dear, I wish to sup with 
you there.” 

“ Surely, he is mine,” thought the dancer, satisfied 
with her easy triumph. 

Then aloud, she replied : 

“A supper cannot be dangerous if one takes pre- 
cautions ; we will consider your offer when we 
alight.” 

“ She is mine,” thought Castilian, unwittingly re- 
peating Marotte’s reflection. 

The clerk did not think he was going contrary to 
his master’s orders, in forgetting, in a gallant adven- 
ture, the grave circumstances which were the cause of 
his journey. 

The few hours of which he was about to dispose, 
belonged to him, he thought, since he could only leave 
for Loches the following day, and since, in conse- 
quence, no scruples concerning his mission would op- 
press him in the present case. 

Moreover, he was not suspicious. He had suspected 
Esteban and his two companions, men of particularly 
suspicious manners, but how could he doubt the perfect 
innocence of a pretty maid, met by chance, and whom 
no interest attracted to him ? 

The clerk yielded freely, therefore, to his thoughts, 
started his horse off at a gallop, and, in less than ten 
minutes, cleared the distance which separated him 
from the first houses of Eomorantin. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. L 207 


XXII. 

What met Castilian’s gaze first of all was an inn, 
situated there to offer a smiling welcome to the trav- 
eler entering the town. 

Its aspect was gay and inviting; a green branch 
swung above the door, and on the threshold appeared 
a chub-faced maid, a tempting sample of the Romo- 
rantin people. 

Of all the inns that Castilian had successively visited 
since leaving Paris, that one seemed to him the most 
respectable and the best kept, perhaps because he 
came upon it at the very moment when he longed for 
a place in which to shelter his gallant attentions. 

He stopped his horse, directly under the bough 
which served as a sign for the inn, alighted and 
caught Marotte as she leaped from the saddle, fearing 
lest she might escape him. 

“ Does this place please you, my dear,” he then 
asked, “ and will you do me the honor to sup with me 
here ? ” 

Marotte appeared to reflect gravely, then she 
smiled : 

“¥e will sup. You are a good fellow, I believe, 
and I can risk myself in your company. Moreover,” 
she added, with a merry shake of her head, “ I am not 
afraid of compromising myself. It is well known that 
people do not believe in our virtue.” 

“We will be cheered up here, then,” concluded 
Castilian, who felt his victory gradually nearing com- 


208 


Captain Satan, of, 

pletion. “ Let us think now only of a dainty meal 
and of doing honor to our landlord’s wines, if his 
cellar is good.” 

While the clerk had his horse put in the stable and 
himself saw that he had plenty to eat, Marotte picked 
up a bit of red tile that had fallen from the roof, and 
used it to draw on the outer wall of the inn, without 
being seen by the servant, a very noticeable sign, 
which presented the form of a triangle, crossed by an 
arrow, the point of which was directed toward the 
roof of the house. 

When Castilian entered the inn, he found Marotte 
seated in a corner of the room, before a table, on 
which she was pressing out with the palm of her 
hand the rumpled clothes which formed her luggage. 

“ My girl,” said the clerk, addressing the buxom 
maidservant, “ although it is still day and supper-time 
is not exactly here, you must start the spits going and 
show us what you know. How long will it take to 
prepare us a meal ? ” 

“ By dark, that is to say, in an hour.” 

“Very well! Nothing is finer than a meal by 
candlelight. The candles make the crystal, the wine 
and lovely eyes sparkle more brightly. What do you 
think of it, Marotte, my darling ? ” 

“ I think there is too much style about that for two 
travelers’ supper.” 

“Never mind. Ah! my girl,” he interrupted him- 
self to catch hold of the arm of the maid, who was 
going out, “ you will serve the meal in my room, if 
you please. Indeed, where is my room ? ” 

“ I will conduct you to it, sir,” said the woman. 

“ Show me to a room, also,” said Marotte. “ I wish 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 209 

to make my toilette, out of compliment to my 
host.” 

The clerk and the dancer exchanged a smile and a 
bow and separated until the hour for supper. 

The fires were started, the sauce-pans were simmer- 
ing on the stove, and odors which promised wonders 
filled the inn, when two men, going at a judicious 
pace, arrived at the house. 

One of them noticed, at once, the red sign drawn 
by Marotte, and which was lighted up by the last 
rays of the setting sun. 

“ They are here,” said he to his companion, in a low 
voice. “Well, this time, I believe we are at the end 
of our troubles.” 

And both, turning back without having been seen, 
hid in the shelter of a ruined wall, which was hard by 
the road, at some distance from the inn. 

A few moments later, when twilight spread its 
greyish veil over the country, one of the men ventured 
to raise his head, looked toward the inn and uttered a 
cry like the call of the owl in the early hours of night. 

A window in the tavern opened, the outlines of 
Marotte’s form could be indistinctly seen in the window- 
frame. 

The dancer waved her hand in the direction of 
the two men, the window closed again, and silence 
reigned. 

Marotte was just finishing her toilette, when the 
servant knocked at her door, saying : 

“ Mistress, the soup is steaming, come.” 

“ I am coming,” replied the gypsy, casting a final 
glance in her mirror to assure herself that her arsenal 
of seduction was complete. 


210 Captain Satan, or, 

And, following the servant, she entered, radiant, the 
room where the supper was served and where Castil- 
ian awaited her with ill-concealed impatience. 

Marotte still wore the long tunic which covered her 
costume de ballet , and the care she had given to her 
toilette was betrayed simply in the arrangement of 
her beautiful hair, curled about her temples and held 
in place by a diadem of sequins. 

“ To table, my charming one,” exclaimed the clerk, 
hastening to meet his guest, whose hand he took and 
whom he led to her seat. 

Castilian then seated himself opposite her, and the 
supper commenced. The two travelers were hungry. 
They forgot, or rather they for the time being put 
aside their preoccupation, in order to do honor to the 
dishes prepared by the Romorantin cook. 

Toward the middle of the repast, when two par- 
tridges flanked with roasted larks appeared, Castilian’s 
eyes, already sparkling from the effects of too copious 
libations, were raised to his partner with a glance of 
ardent eloquence. 

The clerk evidently thought that the time had come 
to resume his attacks. 

In that, Castilian was like a certain philosopher, 
who asserts that the heart is subject to the influence 
of the stomach and that a dainty repast is the best 
prolegomena of gallant enterprises. 

He had not neglected anything to make Marotte 
fall into the sin of gormandizing. 

The lovely woman seemed to enter perfectly into 
her host’s views ; she nibbled with her beautiful teeth 
and drank with a will. 

Yet, while Castilian became more and more an- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 211 

imated, she did not seem to lose her composure, and a 
cunning smile curled the corners of her mouth. 

“ Does it not seem to you, my dear Marotte,” said 
Castilian, after dismissing the maid who had just 
placed on the table with the dessert, a bottle of wine 
the color of topaz, “ does it not seem to you that we 
are very far from each other ? ” 

“Very far?” exclaimed Marotte. “You are jest- 
ing. The table is small and I can feel your knee 
pressing against mine, God forgive me.” 

“ Yes, but there is the table, and, small as it is, it is 
a barrier. Allow me to manage in another way.” 

As he spoke, Castilian picked up his chair and took 
his seat beside Marotte. 

The girl pretended to recoil, but Castilian’s arm was 
already around her waist, and he essayed to place a 
kiss on the pretty hand that repulsed him. 

“Fool that you are,” said Marotte to him, bursting 
into laughter, “ why seek to take that which. . . .” 

She stopped, and her fascinating eyes enveloped 
Castilian in a glance calculated indeed to render him 
mad. 

“ Finish,” said the clerk, breathless. 

“ That which would gladly be given you.” 

And, taking Castilian’s head between her hands, 
Marotte drew him toward her and allowed him to kiss 
her with a good grace. 

“ Ah ! Marotte ! you love me ! ” cried the clerk, fall- 
ing upon his knees. 

“ Have you just found that out, naughty boy ? — Do 
you think that I would have consented to ride behind 
you, to sup with you, if you had been a common 
traveler ? Lord ! how blind men are ! ” 


212 


Captain Satan, or, 

“Lord! how charming women are!” exclaimed 
Castilian, rapturously, kissing Marotte’s lovely hair. 

Yery soon the gypsy seemed to shake off the sort of 
languor which possessed her, and, pointing to the full 
bottle and the untouched dessert, she said : 

“ My friend, now that you have my confession, you 
no longer fear that I will escape you? Well, let us 
finish our supper, and drink to our love. Our happiness 
will lose nothing by it, I fancy.” 

“ Let us drink ! ” cried Castilian, utterly bewitched. 
“ And zounds, if I become intoxicated, what matters 
it? Have you not intoxicated me with your eyes, 
with your smile, with your sweet voice? You are a 
demon, I believe, but a demon that holds the keys of 
Paradise.” 

“ For me to inspire you with such enthusiasm, you 
must really look upon me with enamored eyes. Ah ! 
what would it be, good lord, if I had sought to charm 
you ? ” 

“ Do not try : I am burning up, my dear, what 
could you do more ? ” 

“Would you like me to sing to enliven your dessert 
or shall I dance ? ” 

“ Dance, the idea is charming ! In that gown which 
gives you the appearance of a nun ? ” 

“ Oh ! no,” said Marotte. “ Have you forgotten 
that I have my professional dress with me ? Go and 
fetch my tambourine from my room ; I will refill our 
glasses.” 

While Castilian hastened toward Marotte’s chamber 
delighted to assist in an entertainment which would 
add another charm to his adventure, the dancer quickly 
filled the two glasses, pouring into the clerk’s several 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 213 

drops of the contents of a crystal vial she drew out of 
her bodice. 

When Sulpice returned, the girl seized the tambour- 
ine he brought her, and putting on it a full glass, she 
presented it to him, saying : 

“ Drink, my lord and master, to the health of our 
love ! ” At the same time, she took her own glass, 
and held it out to touch glasses with the clerk. 

A gallant idea crossed the mind of the latter. 

“ One instant, my dearest,” said he. “ In token of 
union, I wish you would permit me to exchange 
glasses with you, in order that I may put my lips on 
the spot where yours have touched.” 

Marotte turned pale, and the glass trembled in 
her hand. But she was not the woman to lose her 
presence of mind on account of so simple an inci- 
dent. 

Controlling herself at once, she smiled and replied : 

“ Your idea is charming and does you credit . . . 

unfortunately. . . .” 

“ Unfortunately ?” 

“ It is too late.” 

“ Too late?” 

“Yes, for I had the same thought, and I offered you 
my glass.” 

“ Oh ! Marotte, if you continue in this strain, I shall 
explode like a powder-magazine ! ” 

“ Do not explode, but drink ! ” 

“ You are right. To our love ! ” 

“ To our love ! ” 

Castilian drained his glass at one draught. Then 
the sound of clinking glasses was succeeded by the 
sound of a kiss. 


âl4 Captain Satan, or, 

The poor clerk was completely entangled in thé 
charmer’s snares. 

Marotte took her tambourine and, in a joyous tone, 
said : 

“ Now, dear sir, sit down and watch me.” 

The dancer’s thumb struck the parchment of the 
instrument, and she commenced a sort of mélopée , out- 
lining the first steps of a dance or rather of a solemn 
march, intermingled with slow and majestic move- 
ments. 

Castilian, with wide-open eyes, stared as if he were 
in the presence of a supernatural vision. 

Soon the danseuses voice became more lively. 

The serious mood of her song was followed by a 
quick and light rhythm ; the bells on the tambourine 
shook with a joyous tremor. Then Marotte paused 
and with one gesture, dropped her long tunic at her 
feet. 

The clerk was almost blinded. 

It was no longer Marotte who was before him, it 
was a peri, a fairy. lie saw her then as he had 
dreamed of her : as swift, as sportive as a bird, as 
light as a feather, as voluptuous as a Bacchante. 

Marotte saw very quickly the effect she was pro- 
ducing. She began to turn around the clerk, to wave 
her arms like white wings above Castilian’s head, 
skimming lightly over the floor with her dainty feet, 
falling at the feet of the young man, and rising again 
to bound to the other end of the room, then envelop- 
ing her victim in a circle of maddening attitudes, in- 
toxicating him with the sight of her, with her smile, 
her eyes and her song. 

Finally the mazy dance ceased. Marotte, her 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 215 

bosom heaving, her eyelids quivering, knelt before 
Castilian. 

The clerk was more than bewitched. While he saw 
Marotte’s charming form circling around him, as un- 
seizable as a dream, he did not stir from his seat. 

But when the sense of reality returned to him, 
when he saw the bewitching form at his feet, Sulpice 
opened his arms and rose, in order to seize her like a 
prey. 

Marotte anticipated him, and, laughing sportively, 
said : 

“ Ha ! I have not finished. Mad is he who would 
reach me.” 

At these words, she started off again, as lightly as 
before. Castilian wanted to pursue her. 

He rushed after her, but scarcely did he think he 
had caught her by the fringe on her scarf, than a 
silvery burst of laughter from the other end of the 
room demonstrated to him the absurdity of his efforts. 

Speedily the clerk felt that his limbs were becoming 
as heavy as if a load-stone fastened them to the floor ; 
a singular torpor stole over him ; it was no longer 
Marotte who persisted in whirling before him : all the 
furniture in the room and the very walls themselves 
seemed to follow that movement. 

Castilian fancied he saw the dancer disappear in a 
pink cloud, and for an instant he had an intuition of 
his defeat. 

Marotte’s clear laughter continued to ring in his 
ears like irony ; he cursed his weakness ; he tried to 
rise from his seat, he beat the air with his arms, and 
low oaths escaped from his parched lips. 

The struggle could not last long. A moment later, 


216 Captain Satan, or, 

Castilian was asleep on the bed on which he had fallen 
like one intoxicated. 

Pensively Marotte regarded him, and frequently 
her caressing hand rested on the young man’s clammy 
brow. 

Toward midnight, she rose, took a lighted candle 
and set it on the window-sill. 

Several instants later, the sound of gravel thrown 
against the panes broke the silence of the night. 

Marotte softly opened the window, having first ex- 
tinguished the light, and two men, hauling themselves 
up by the aid of a rope fastened by the gypsy girl to 
the cross-bar of the balcony, entered the room. 

Those men were Ben- Joël and Binaldo. 

The latter carried a dark lantern, the light from 
which he turned on the bed. 

“ Is he asleep ? ” Ben- Joël asked at the same time. 

“He has been asleep almost two hours,” replied 
Marotte. 

“ You have served us well, little one. How, come 
on.” 

And Ben- Joël drew his dagger out of his belt. 

“Are you going to kill him?” asked Marotte, 
shuddering. 

“ That is a fine question ! What can that matter to 
you, I pray you ? ” 

“ This ! I do not wish it,” replied Marotte, resolutely. 

“You are mad. This fine gallant must die. He 
annoys us ; therefore, let us act.” 

« Ho ! ” 

“ Stubborn girl ! ” murmured Ben- Joël. 

Binaldo said nothing, but he grasped Marotte’s arm. 

The dancer freed herself from his restraining fin- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 217 

gers, ran to the bed and, drawing from her bosom a 
dagger which she always carried there, she threatened : 

“ Come now, if you dare.” 

“ We are losing time,” remarked Binaldo. 

“ Do not approach,” advised Marotte, seeing de 
Lembrat’s valet about to advance ; “ I warn you that 
a wound made by my dagger is mortal.” 

“ Strange girl ! ” murmured Binaldo, retreating 
prudently. 

“Well, Marotte,” replied Ben- Joël, “are we to be- 
lieve that you love that Parisian ? ” 

“ Who knows ? ” said the dancer. “ Go, bandits, if 
you wish to demand more than I promised.” 

“You require his life . . . absolutely.” 

“ Absolutely.” 

“She will not give in,” sighed Ben- Joël. “Come, 
Binaldo, we must leave as quickly as possible.” 

****** 

When the rising sun kissed Castilian’s face, the 
clerk awoke with difficulty, and, still dazed from the 
effect of the narcotic given him by Marotte, he sought 
to collect his thoughts. The reminiscences of that 
night, commencing at a well-spread table, ending in 
an overwhelming dream, gradually re-occurred to him. 

He sat up and looked about for the Marotte whom 
he had seen disappear in a cloud. 

A bit of ribbon, lying on the floor, alone betrayed 
the sportive maiden’s passage. 

Castilian sprang out of the bed and found that he 
was ready to go in search of information, for he had 
slept in his clothes. 

When he tied his doublet, which he had opened that 


218 Captain Satan, or, 

night to get air for his throbbing breast, an exclama- 
tion of surprise and of anger escaped him. 

Instinctively he felt the place in his garment in 
which Suzanne had sewn the letter from Cyrano to 
the curé of Saint-Sernin, and that place he found 
empty. 

The lining of the doublet was cut, and the valuable 
letter was no longer there. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 219 


XXIII. 

That discovery plunged Sulpice into a profound 
stupor. When he recovered his self-possession, he 
thought seriously of blowing out his brains in order 
to punish himself for his infidelity. 

He cocked one of his pistols and began slowly to 
put it to his head. 

The weapon fortunately stopped on the way, and 
Sulpice, having probably reflected, replaced it on the 
table. 

“What a fool I am!” he then murmured; “if I 
were dead, things would be no better ; on the contrary, 
I must live and try to repair my folly.” 

His first thought was to return to Paris. That 
plan, however, was not the best. While he would be 
riding to the capital, his enemies would reach Saint- 
Sernin and the wrong would become irreparable. 

He was beginning to look at the adventure from 
that point of view, when the maid of the inn rapped 
softly on the door. 

Sulpice opened it hastily. 

“ Where is she ? ” he asked of the newcomer. 

“ Who, sir ? ” 

“ Marotte ; the lady with whom I supped.” 

“ She has been gone some time, sir.” 

“ Gone ! In what direction ? ” 

“ In the direction of Orléans ! ” 

“ The accursed wench ! ” growled Castilian. “ She 
has robbed me. But why ? I wonder vainly.” 


220 


Captain Satan, or, 

The maid took from her pocket a daintily folded 
note and handed it to Sulpice, saying : 

“ That is for you, sir.” 

“ From whom ? ” 

“ The pretty lady.” 

“ Ah ! Let me see.” 

Castilian opened the note, written in a sprawling 
hand, and read these words : 

“ Ben-Joël has gone to Saint-Sernin. Forgive me; 
I repent.” 

“Ben- Joel! Ah! Flow, I understand all,” cried 
the clerk. 

Adding with a burst of anger : 

“ She repents, the jade ! It is time, indeed, my faith ! 
She inveigles me like a sparrow in her snares, she 
ridicules me, she makes me drunk, she robs me, and 
after that she asks my pardon! Who would have 
thought it ? Marotte in connivance with those knaves ! 
Ah ! I would crush the race of Bohemians beneath 
my heel. I escaped all dangers, all ambushes, and a 
damned female got the best of me. But, by the devil ! 
That shall not be allowed. I will regain possession of 
my letter, should I, in order to do so, have to rip Ben- 
Joël open from stomach to throat. Go, my girl, have 
my horse saddled, and find me a messenger who 
can leave for Paris instanter. There will be twenty 
pistoles for him if he reaches there before to-morrow 
night.” 

“ He can be found, sir,” replied the servant. “ Claude 
Morel will undertake it.” 

“ Run quickly, then, and bring him to me.” 

While the maid withdrew to execute Castilian’s 
orders, the latter wrote the message destined by him 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 221 

for Cyrano, a message in which he briefly enumer- 
ated the facts which had just taken place. 

He did not seek to excuse himself; he relied on 
Cyrano’s character and knew him to be a man who 
would not suspect his good faith. 

When the letter was finished, Castilian went down- 
stairs and found Claude Morel awaiting him. 

The terms were speedily made ; Sulpice saw his man 
depart, and, satisfied on that point, he in his turn 
swung himself into his saddle, and galloped off in 
pursuit of Ben- Joël whom, at any price, he must pre- 
vent from reaching Saint-Sernin. 

****** 

After the scene of the preceding night, Marotte, it 
must be said, was ashamed of the part she had been 
made to play, since at the last moment she had be- 
trayed her accomplices’ cause in order to enlighten 
Castilian as to their plans. 

She had remained with the two companions only 
long enough to discover their projects and had set out 
again for Orléans, not without cherishing the hope 
that some day or other she might meet Castilian and 
might make him forget her treason. 

As for Kinaldo and Ben- Joël, they had separated 
after determining on their course. 

Ben- Joël turned his steps toward Loches, and Bi- 
naldo took the road to Paris, where he arrived on the 
morning after the following day, without hastening 
greatly. 

When the rogue presented himself at Hôtel de Lem- 
brat, the Count had not yet risen, although it was al- 
most eleven o’clock, 


222 


Captain Satan, or, 

Eoland, having spent the night at a ball, had slept 
very late, and was very much provoked at the cold- 
ness shown him by Gilberte de Faventines. 

He was, therefore, ill-humored when his servant en- 
tered with the announcement of Einaldo’s return. 

The name of the latter, uttered in a discreet tone by 
the man, had the effect of suddenly quieting him. 

“ Einaldo here !” he exclaimed, “ what can have 
happened ? Admit him.” 

Einaldo had not awaited permission, he was already 
in the room. 

“Well?” the Count inquired, on perceiving him, 
“ what have you come to tell me ? The letter ? ” 

“We have it, my lord.” 

The Count breathed more freely. 

“ Give it to me,” said he. 

“ You want the letter ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“ But I have not it, my lord.” 

“ Where is it then, stupid ? ” 

“ In Ben-Joel’s hands.” 

“ And Ben- Joel ?” 

“ Is traveling now in the direction of Saint-Sernin.” 

“ This requires explanations.” 

“ I have come to make them, my lord.” 

Einaldo then related all that had happened. When 
he had told how Marotte had defended Castilian’s life, 
and how also, notwithstanding, she had found the let- 
ter sewn in the traveler’s coat and had given it to 
them, the Count cried : 

“ She fell in love with the secretary suddenly, 
then ? ” 

“Woman is a strange animal, my lord ! We thought 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 223' 

as you did, but we lacked the leisure to inquire into 
it.” 

“ That, however, matters little to us. What did the 
letter contain ? To whom was it addressed ? ” 

“ To M. Jacques Longuépée, cure of Saint-Sernin, in 
Périgord.” 

“ I understand ! Some friend of Cyrano’s.” 

“ His foster-brother, my lord. The letter contained 
many protestations of affection and ended with sev- 
eral remarks relative to the Count’s, your father’s, 
document.” 

“ Let us hear that.” 

“According to Cyrano’s orders, the curé was to 
place the greatest confidence in Castilian, to provide 
himself with Count de Lembrat’s papers, and to set 
out with the said Castilian, and to await Bergerac at 
Colignac.” 

“ A great deal of precaution. . . . And,” con- 

tinued the Count, with some hesitation, “was there 
nothing relative to the contents of Count de Lem- 
brat’s document ? ” 

“ Nothing, my lord.” 

“Well,” said Roland to himself, “Cyrano has at 
least kept the secret to himself.” 

“My lord,” concluded Rinaldo, “the rest of the 
affair is simple. Ben- Joël, who is a very prudent fel- 
low, is on his way this very moment to the curé of 
Saint-Sernin, where he will present himself under the 
name of Castilian. Bergerac’s letter will not cause 
the good curé to mistrust the messenger, and when 
Ben- Joël will have seen but the end of the envelope 
which encloses your father’s writing, you may be cer- 
tain it will not be long before he will be in possession 


224 Captain Satan, or, 

of it. That told, my lord, are yon satisfied with 
us ?” 

“ You are an excellent servant, Rinaldo. The day 
on which our success shall be complete, will see you 
the owner of the land which adjoins my castle of 
Gardannes, and which your father farmed.” 

“ Oh, you do things royally, my lord ! ” cried the 
valet, whose eyes sparkled with satisfied cupidity. 

“ Go, now, and try to find out what Cyrano is doing, 
for they say he is convalescent from his wound.” 

“ You shall be informed in two hours, my lord.” 

Count de Lembrat dressed, while Rinaldo went in 
search of information, and was about to order his car- 
riage that he might go to the Marquis’ house, when 
his accomplice returned very unexpectedly. 

He had been gone scarcely an hour. 

The valet’s face was nonplused. 

Roland foresaw that he was about to hear bad news. 

“Ah! my lord,” exclaimed Rinaldo, “if you knew 
what had happened ! ” 

“ What, knave ? Ho preamble, I pray you.” 

“Well, my lord, I have been to Bergerac’s.” 
“Well?” 

“ The bird has flown.” 

“ Since when ? ” 

“ Since last night ! ” 

“ Where is he ? ” 

“I cross-questioned his landlord, who is a great 
gossip, and he informed me. . . .” 

“ He informed you ? ” 

“ That a peasant, coming from Romorantin, had 
been to Cyrano’s lodgings last night, and had brought 
him a very important letter. Upon which, Cyrano, 


The Adventures of Cyrano cle Bergerac. 225 

without listening to any remarks, ordered his horse 
and left Paris immediately. He has surely gone to 
Castilian’s aid, for I will wager that Castilian had 
something to do with that letter.” 

“ And you wager aright, imbecile. If you had rid 
us of the secretary, we would not have the master on 
our hands at this time.” 

“ But, my lord. . . .” 

“ Be silent, with Cyrano gone, all is recommenced, 
and, who knows, now, if I will not be the victim of 
your absurd conduct and if the de Lembrat document 
will not escape us ? ” 

“¥e will have it, my lord, I swear to you, as surely 
as I will have my farm at Gardannes.” 

Rinaldo said “ my farm,” as if he were already sure 
of his success. 

Roland was somewhat reassured by the valet’s man- 
ner and dismissed the man, saying : 

“Well, go, do what you like; I give Cyrano up to 
you. As for me, I will attend to Manuel. It is he, 
after all, who is the principal cause of all this trouble, 
and if he were dead, I should care very little for Ber- 
gerac’s annoyances. I will think over that. I care 
not when Cyrano returns ! ” 

When he was alone, he added : 

“They can force me to recognize Manuel as my 
brother, but they cannot prevent me from taking his 
inheritance from him. What it is to have scruples. If 
I had thought of this sooner, instead of a stone prison, 
Manuel would have had four boards for his shelter.” 

Having reassured himself thus, the Count forgot his 
first plan in order to devote himself entirely to 
Manuel’s ruin. 


226 


Captain Satan, or, 

While Rinaldo hastened to leave Paris, in order to 
try to rejoin Cyrano, and while Castilian followed 
Ben- Joël, Count de Lembrat also took the field. 

His first visit was to the provost, Jean de Lamothe, 
who with great zeal was watching Ludovic’s case. 

Meanwhile the young man was kept a prisoner in 
one of the smallest cells of the châtelet. 

“Well, my dear provost,” said the Count; “where 
are we in this serious matter ? ” 

“We are advancing slowly; but the slower the 
law the surer it is. What has become of Master 
Cyrano ? ” 

“ I do not know,” said Roland, indifferently. “We 
have been somewhat at variance since his protégées 
misadventure.” 

“I understand that Bergerac thinks himself in- 
fallible ; he bears ill-will toward those who try to cor- 
rect him for that self-confidence.” 

“You are right in your opinion. Apropos, my 
dear provost, I must ask a favor of you.” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ I would like to see this Manuel.” 

“ What a strange fancy ! ” 

“ Ho. It is not a mere fancy, I assure you. Does 
he persist in his pretensions ? ” 

“ More than ever.” 

“Well, I flatter myself that I can make him return 
to more modest ideas. Can you grant me the warrant 
I ask of you ? And would it be possible for you to 
extend that authority to another person whom I 
should deem proper to introduce near the prisoner ? ” 

The provost wrote several lines on a sheet of vellum, 
and, handing the writing to Roland, he added : 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 227 

“With this, you can enter into Manuel’s prison 
without any trouble, and the person whom it will 
please you to point out to the jailer will also be ad- 
mitted to the châtelet .” 

“ Thank you, my dear provost, after to-day, I will 
use your signature.” 

“ In eight days, if God pleases, my search will be 
ended. The mass of proofs which I have in my 
possession seem to me sufficient to force a confession 
from the culprit. If, however, he does not yield, I 
know of one means to make him decide to.” 

“ What is it ? ” « 

“Torture, my dear Count. Good iron boots fas- 
tened to his feet, or some other means I know of are 
arguments which the most hardened do not resist. 
Farewell.” 


228 


Captain Satan, or, 


XXIV. 

Roland had only a few steps to take on leaving 
the provost’s house, in order to reach the gate of the 
châtelet. 

He showed his order to the jailer, and all the gates 
opened before him. 

A turnkey preceded him and took him through a 
long, dark corridor, at the end of which was a nar- 
row staircase leading to the subterranean part of the 
prison. 

The two men descended thirty steps. 

After which the jailer, pausing before an oaken 
door, shook his bunch of keys, and said to the Count : 

“ It is here.” 

The bolts slipped, the key turned slowly in the lock, 
and the Count, through the opening in the door, could 
see an indistinct form crouched on a stone bench, in 
the shadowy cell. 

Manuel did not turn his head on hearing the sound 
of the door ; he was used to his keepers’ daily visit, 
and he allowed them to do their duty without even 
addressing a word to them. 

Recent as had been the young man’s captivity, it 
had greatly changed him. 

His naturally pale face had assumed the shade of 
ivory ; his temples and his cheeks were sunken, and his 
eyes glowed as if burning with fever or madness. 

He had suffered cruelly during those few da3^s, 
suffered in mind rather than body, for he was 
supremely indifferent to his material situation. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 229 

Had he not, moreover, been reared in the school of 
suffering and privation ? 

What bowed his head, what broke his strength, was 
the sense of his disgrace, the remembrance of Gilberte, 
lost to him forever. 

He was there, his face hidden by his tangled hair, 
and insensible to the horror of the darkness which 
surrounded him as well as to the dampness which 
penetrated to the marrow. 

Hot seeing him stir, the turnkey laid his hand on 
his shoulder. Manuel turned around slowly. 

“ Does your lordship wish to be left alone ? ” then 
asked the man. 

“ Yes,” replied Roland, in a low voice. 

At the sound of his brother’s voice, Manuel started 
and glanced at the visitor, whose face was dimly 
lighted up by the light from the air-hole. 

“You, here!” he exclaimed, rising as if to rush 
toward Roland de Lembrat. 

The latter instinctively retreated a step. He was 
afraid of that movement made on the spur of the 
moment. 

“ Fear nothing, sir,” the young man said bitterly. 
“ You can see that I am chained.” 

Then Roland saw that Manuel’s right foot was held 
by a heavy, short chain fastened to the floor of the cell. 

He signed to the turnkey to retire and again ap- 
proached Manuel. 

“ If you expected a visitor, it was not I, was it ? ” he 
asked. 

“Why not?” replied Manuel, coldly. “Probably 
you have come here to assure yourself that I am 
guarded closely enough.” 


230 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ You are mistaken. I have come here to find out 
if you wish to leave here.” 

“ Liberty ! You offer it to me ! ” 

“ Does that surprise you ? ” 

“Nothing surprises me now. And the word lib- 
erty, you hear, I can repeat in a calm voice, know- 
ing well that you uttered it as one throws a bait be- 
fore a snare.” 

“ You have a very poor opinion of me, Manuel ? ” 

“ Is it in my power to have a better, sir ? Explain 
your intentions freely.” 

Roland drew a purse from his doublet. 

“ There is here,” he said, “ quite a sum, almost a 
fortune to you who have always known poverty, 
Manuel, consent to fly, to leave France, and I will 
give you this fortune.” 

“ That was not clever,” sneered the prisoner, cru- 
elly. “And if the provost had heard you, the words 
alone you have just uttered would be sufficient to ruin 
your cause.” 

“ I do not understand you.” 

“What? You believe me guilty of a crime, you ac- 
cuse me of having stolen your brother’s name, my 
condemnation seems inevitable to you and you come 
here foolishly to offer me money in order to rid you 
of my presence ! But that, sir, is simply an avowal 
that I am Ludovic de Lembrat and that you fear the 
knowledge of the law.” 

Roland bit his lips. The prisoner’s logic put to 
naught a plan which he had believed cleverly con- 
ceived. To persuade Manuel to flight was, indeed, to 
convince the public and the judges of his guilt. A 
man strong in his right would not flee from the suit 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 231 

which menaced him. He would struggle to the end ; 
he would protest to the scaffold. 

Some reply must be made to Manuel’s objection. 

The Count said : 

“ The law is formidable for you, Manuel.” 

The prisoner shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Then find a reason which can justify your offer. 
You cannot think of one, can you ? Let us, therefore, 
leave matters as they are, sir. I know what my fault 
is, — and I am expiating it here, — it is that I love the 
woman you have chosen.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” 

“ I think that your injured love alone has inspired 
you with the plot of which I am the victim. It is for 
that that I pity more than scorn you. Passion is mad, 
it will go even to the extreme of infamy to assure a 
rival’s destruction.” 

Manuel was more charitable toward his brother 
than he deserved. 

He was not disposed to believe that base cupidity 
was the chief motive of his conduct. 

And, as Poland remained motionless and mute, the 
prisoner concluded : 

“ Go, sir, go without fear ; I can no longer contend 
with you for your betrothed, but you cannot take 
from me my love as you have taken my name. I love 
Gilberte, and my revenge is the thought that the pure 
maiden’s soul, closed to you, was one day opened wide 
to me, and that it revealed to me all the exquisite 
treasures of her affection.” 

“ Wretch ! ” roared the Count, exasperated at those 
words. 

“Would you strike me?” asked Manuel, coldly. 


232 Captain Satan, or, 

“You may. I have told you, I believe, that I am 
chained.” 

Roland controlled himself. 

He had, moreover, learned all that he desired to 
know, he was assured of Manuel’s firm resolution, and 
the fear .with which Cyrano’s threats inspired him, 
was increased on seeing, at the last moment, the 
judge’s conviction weakened, perhaps destroyed by the 
firm attitude and formal declarations of the accused. 

“ Well,” said he to himself, on leaving the cell, with- 
out addressing another word to the prisoner, “ that 
step has put an end to my indecision. This Manuel is 
decidedly in the way here.” 

Roland, before leaving the châteleU said to the 
turnkey : 

“M. Jean de Lamothe’s order has given me author- 
ity to send to Manuel some person I may please to 
select, if I have need to communicate with him and 
cannot come myself.” 

“ Indeed, my lord.” 

“ Soon, to-morrow, perhaps this evening you will re- 
ceive my envoy’s visit. Whosoever it is, he will be 
furnished with a line from me, and you will have to 
look upon him as another Count.” 

“We will obey the provost’s and your orders, my 
lord.” 

When the Count was once more in the open air, he 
drew a deep breath. 

The excitement of the scene just enacted had op- 
pressed his breast more than the unhealthy atmos- 
phere of the prison. 

“ Let me see,” he said, to himself, walking slowly, 
with an irresolute air, “ what shall I do ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 233 

Suddenly his face lighted up. 

“ Zilla,” he murmured. 

And his step grew more rapid and more assured. 

The Count had made his choice. 

He crossed the Seine and proceeded toward the 
House of Cyclops, where, for several days, Zilla had 
been living alone, knowing nothing of the real reasons 
for Ben- Joel’s absence. 

The gypsy, morever, cared little about his absence ; 
all her thoughts were for Manuel, for Manuel, whom 
she loved and whose fall she had welcomed as the 
most favorable issue of her love. 

She hoped to see him return soon, humble and dis- 
illusionized, to Ben-Joël’s roof ; she was prepared to 
console him, to heal him, to offer him tender reality 
for his dreams. 

But she waited in vain, Manuel was still in impris- 
onment ; she had had no news of him ; she could turn 
to no one for it. 

For whole days, she remained in her room lost in 
thought, and, at times, starting at the voice of her 
conscience, which reproached her for her selfishness 
and her treason. 

Ho one had come to interrupt her solitude. So, 
when a human footstep was heard on the worm-eaten 
staircase of the old house, Zilla rose, her bosom heav- 
ing, her lips parted, her eyes sparkling with passion. 

She hoped for Manuel’s return. 

It was the Count who appeared on the threshold of 
the door which the girl had opened in her impatience. 

A shade of sadness clouded Zilla’s brow. 

nevertheless, she felt pleased to see the Count. 
Through him she would hear something about Manuel, 


234 Captain Satan, or, 

through him, perhaps, she might learn of his approach- 
ing release. 

“ Ah ! sir,” she cried, “ you have come to tell me 
what is going on, have you not ? ” 

“ My dear,” said Koland, flinging himself on a seat, 
“ I have come especially to talk to you, and I ask 
nothing better than to answer your questions.” 

“ Where is Manuel ? ” 

“ In the châtelet , still.” 

“ His trial ? ” 

“ Is being prepared.” 

“ Did you not promise me, sir, that the affair should 
have no results, and that after confounding Manuel, 
you would . . . pardon him ? ” 

“ I promised all that, it is true, for I could see your 
true feelings; unfortunately, the provost, having 
promised nothing, did not take the matter as simply 
as I believed he would. He desires a trial and a 
sentence.” 

Zilla turned pale. 

“You laugh, sir,” said she, in a trembling voice. 
“ The time is ill-chosen, it seems to me.” 

“ If I laugh, my dear, it is because your . . . 

friend is not in danger.” 

“ You think so ? ” 

“ I think it will not be necessary to await the trial, 
and that the bird could perfectly well fly, now.” 

“Who will give him the means? The châtelet is 
well guarded. Who will open the doors for him ? ” 

U J 5? 

“You?” 

“ Undoubtedly ; if, however, you will aid me in this 
enterprise.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 235 

“ Speak ! What shall I do ? ” 

“ My dear Zilla,” said the Count, slowly, “ I have 
no need to remind you that you are the prime cause 
of Manuel’s captivity. It was you who enlightened 
me as to his deceit ; not in my interest, but in yours, 
I fancy. You loved him, and you saw that he was 
lost to you. . . . ” 

“ What are you driving at ? ” interrupted Zilla, curtly. 

“ At this : your hand was the instrument of his 
ruin, it must be the instrument of his salvation. 
Write to him ; tell him of your repentance ; offer him 
liberty. A man will undertake to deliver your letter 
to him and to prevent it from being seen. We must 
have the blindest confidence in such a man. Do not 
forget to tell this to Manuel.” 

“Yes,” said the gypsy, with conviction, “you are 
right. I alone should write to him. And he will be- 
lieve me, for I will tell him the whole truth.” 

“ Love has no need of excuses. You will be speedily 
pardoned. Write; I am waiting.” 

Zilla seated herself and took up a pen after reflect- 
ing an instant. 

Beneath her feverish hand, the vellum was rapidly 
covered with strange characters. The girl wrote in 
the Romany tongue, the dialect of the nomadic tribes, 
which language Manuel had learned to speak in child- 
hood. 

When the Count saw that she was entirely absorbed 
in her work, he began to walk about the room slowly, 
examining closely the most mysterious corners. 

Evidently the Count was looking for something. 
Ilis eyes soon fell on a table laden with objects of all 
sorts and standing to the right of Zilla. 


236 


Captain Satan, or, 

He advanced softly, extended his hand without 
being seen by Zilla, and seized an object on that table, 
which he slipped hurriedly in his doublet. 

“ Have you finished ? ” he then asked, approaching 
the fortune-teller. 

“Yes. See.” 

She held out to him the carefully folded note. 

“ Yery well,” said the Count. “In less than two 
days, you will have nothing more to fear; Manuel 
will be safe from everything.” 

A peculiar smile accompanied those words. 

Zilla did not notice the expression of Roland’s face. 
She clung to a new hope, and her eyes, accustomed 
to read to their very depths the thoughts of her inter- 
locutor’s, were at that moment as if blinded by the ra- 
diance of an approaching happiness. 

“ That Zilla,” thought the Count, as he returned 
home, “ that Zilla was caught in my trap like a real 
linnet. If she but knew that through her again I 
possess the means of ridding myself of Manuel ! ” 

And rolling the gypsy’s note between his fingers, 
he entered his room and put away carefully the object 
stolen by him from Ben- Joel’s sister. 

That object so skilfully stolen by the Count, was a 
vial of poison. 

One day when Roland and Ben- Joël were conferring 
in Z ilia’s room and were talking of Cyrano, the Bo- 
hemian had said to him, pointing to the vial : 

“See, sir, there is something more to be dreaded 
than Captain Satan’s sword. One drop of the liquid 
contained in that bottle would kill a man in two 
seconds.” 

At the time Roland had not paid much attention to 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 237 

Ben- Joel’s proposal, who took a sort of pride in ex- 
plaining to the Count the strength of the weapons he 
used. 

He had seen him take up and replace the tiny vial 
on the table, without having had the least desire to 
possess it. 

On leaving the châtelet , the remembrance of that 
incident had occurred to him, like an inspiration. 
From that instant, his resolution had been made. On 
entering Zilla’s abode, he did not intend to buy the 
poison of her : that would have been to reveal to her 
his plans. 

He wished simply to steal it, and he had succeeded. 
The letter with the thought of which he had inspired 
Zilla would facilitate him with the means of accom- 
plishing the theft, by occupying the girl’s attention ; it 
would undoubtedly help him to use the object of that 
theft and become the innocent cause of Manuel’s ruin. 

The gypsy did not know until night of the real ob- 
ject of the Count’s visit. 

That night, before retiring, Zilla, very careful of 
her beauty and very skilful, like all the daughters of 
her race, in the art of preserving it and of increasing 
its brilliance, Zilla, we say, sought among her vials for 
an ointment which she was in the habit of putting on 
her cheeks and lips. 

She immediately noticed the disappearance of the 
tiny glass bottle containing the poison, boasted of by 
Ben- Joël. That discovery troubled her greatly. 

Pushing back with her hand the toilette articles she 
was about to use, she began a careful search for the 
dangerous product, too imprudently left within the 
reach of the indiscreet. 


238 


Captain Satan, or, 

When the uselessness of her search was entirely 
demonstrated, Zilla felt her trouble increase. 

Then a thought occurred to her. 

“ The Count ! ” she cried, “ it is the Count who has 
stolen my poison. Ah ! fool that I am ! I believed in 
his sincerity. He wishes to kill Manuel and he came 
to me, to me, to steal his weapons. Hypocrite and 
coward ! I knew him well, and I allowed myself to 
be deceived ! ” 

Zilla, beside herself, threw her cape over her shoul- 
ders, over which floated her loosened hair, rapidly 
descended the staircase and left the House of Cyclops. 

“ Where are you going, my dear ? ” called the old 
portress to her as she passed on ; “ it is very late to be 
on the streets.” 

Zilla did not hear her. 

She rushed out into the night, and walked rapidly 
toward the Pont-Neuf, where for several hours silence 
had succeeded the bustle of the day. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 239 


XXV. 

About a week after those events, Cyrano had been 
installed for twenty-four hours in the town of Colignac 
in the house of the lord of the place. 

His host was also the friend of his childhood, his 
name was Count de Colignac. 

Savinien, pressed as he was to rejoin Castilian, of 
whom he had not had any recent news, did not wish 
to pass by Colignac without greeting that friend. 

Moreover, it was at his house that he had appointed 
a meeting with Castilian and Longuépée. He was not 
very much surprised not to meet them there. 

His trip had been very quick, and he supposed that 
Castilian, in view of the complications caused by Ben- 
Joël, was delayed on his way. 

Savinien was not uneasy. He knew Longuépée 
capable of defending alone against the Bohemian 
Count de Lembrat’s precious trust. 

He therefore did honor gaily to Colignac’s sumptu- 
ous fare. 

Since the night before, Savinien, habitually as sober 
as a cenobite, had not left the table. The Count and 
his neighbor, the Marquis de Cussan, great huntsmen, 
great drinkers, forced him to stay with them. 

While the three gentlemen were thus gaily spending 
the early hours of the morning, a man arrived at 
Colignac and engaged lodgings at the best inn in the 
town. 

That man was Binaldo. 


240 


Captain Satan, or, 

The knave had lost no time. From Paris he had 
followed on Savinien’s track and had made np the 
start that nobleman had over him. 

The valet had undergone another change. He ap- 
peared at the inn, dressed in black from head to foot, 
and his face, at once grave and mysterious, gave the 
tavern-keeper, accustomed to the round faces of the 
peasants of Périgord, food for thought. 

Rinaldo took him aside and whispered several words 
in his ear. 

The man opened his eyes wide on hearing the trav- 
eler’s confidence, and his respectful manner showed 
those drinking in the room, that they had before them 
a person of consequence. 

Shortly afterward, Rinaldo went to his room, ac- 
companied by his host. 

At the end of an hour the two men again descended 
the stairs. The proprietor of the inn returned to his 
work ; the traveler left the inn and turned toward the 
house of the bailiff, representing royal justice. 

The curiosity of those at the inn was excited. 
Who was the man in black, and what was he doing at 
Colignac ? 

“ Ho, there ! Landriot,” finally cried one of the 
peasants, less patient or more indiscreet than the 
others, “come here a minute.” 

Master Landriot, that was the innkeeper’s name, 
approached. 

“ What do you want ? ” he asked of him who had 
called him. 

“I wish to ask you since when you have grown 
mysterious with your friends, you who are usually as 
much of a chatterer as a magpie ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 241 

“ Mysterious ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly. Who is that fellow with the 
Shrovetide face whom you salute so low and who 
steals like a shadow along the lanes in order to go to 
the bailiff’s house ? ” 

“ That is nothing to you, curious fellow ! ” 

“ You are very discreet, or else you know nothing.” 

“I know nothing!” cried the landlord, visibly 
piqued at the doubt expressed by his interlocutor. 
“ If I had not promised to be as silent as a carp, you 
would see if I know nothing.” 

That declaration, accompanied by a smile of im- 
portance, had the immediate result of gathering all 
his customers around him. 

They scented an interesting story, and they wanted 
it at any price. 

“ If you have promised to be discreet,” ventured 
another personage, “ we are capable of being so as 
well as you. The devil! one can easily confide a 
secret to one’s neighbors. Come, tell us what you 
know about the man in black.” 

“But. . . .” 

“ Yes, speak,” cried the assembly, with one voice, 
goaded by ever-increasing curiosity by reason of Lan- 
driot’s excessive reserve. 

“ I have promised.” 

“ But, stubborn fellow, when we repeat to you that 
we will say nothing. . . .” 

“ Will you swear it, sure ? ” 

“ Sure.” 

“ If you betray my secret, you see, it might do me 
harm.” 

“Will you speak ? ” 


242 Captain Satan, or, 

“Well, since yon promise to say nothing. . . 

“Yes?” 

“ Not to seek to annoy my traveler. . . 

“ Yes ! yes ! Are you satisfied ? ” 

“ I will tell you all. Oh ! it is terrible ! ” 

The circle pressed around Pinaldo’s unfaithful con- 
fidant, who lowered his voice and held his hand to his 
lips to say to his auditors : 

“ Do you know who the man in black is, my boys ? ” 

“ He is ? . . 

“A police ofiicer from the Paris provostship. Noth- 
ing but that ! ” 

“ A police ofiicer ! ” 

“ Psh ! ” said the narrator. “ If you scream thus, I 
can say nothing more. That ofiicer, who, as you 
know, is a man of great importance, commissioned to 
execute the King’s laws, that ofiicer has come here in 
pursuit of a criminal, of an agent of hell, of a sorcerer, 
since it must be told.” 

These words rather troubled the auditors. The 
peasants looked at one another fearfully and their 
eyes wandered instinctively toward the corners of the 
room, as if they expected to see rise there the menacing 
form of the sorcerer mentioned by Master Landriot. 

At that time, and especially in the remote provinces, 
a sorcerer was the greatest of terrors to the ignorant 
people, and it did not take very much to change the 
most innocent man into one who cast fates and a fre- 
quenter of nocturnal meetings. 

The most enlightened minds had preserved in that 
respect the prejudices of another age, and they fre- 
quently burned on the public square persons suspected 
of having had intercourse with the Evil One. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 243 

When calmness was restored to those gathered 
around the innkeeper, they ventured to question him 
again. 

“ Is this sorcerer ... in the country ? ” asked 
one of them, in a trembling voice. 

“You have all seen,” replied Landriot, “that gentle- 
man with the hooked nose, with the terrible air, who 
arrived yesterday at M. de Colignac’s.” 

“Yes,” said one voice, “the same who stared at me 
in a way that made me uncomfortable when he passed 
my door.” 

“Well,” said the landlord, “that was he! . . . 

that was the sorcerer.” 

“ But,” replied one man, with grey hair, “ if I am 
not mistaken, that gentleman is a native of these 
parts. Is not his name Cyrano de Bergerac ? ” 

“ Bergerac or not, man or devil,” continued Master 
Landriot, “it is a fact nevertheless that he is sold to 
the devil and that he wrote books in Paris against our 
holy religion. That is why he is being followed, that 
he may be burned alive, like the damned one he is.” 

“Did you not notice,” interpolated the peasant, 
“that it thundered yesterday when the sorcerer 
reached the square. Still the sky was cloudless. 
That is not natural.” 

“ He was about to cast our lots,” said another. 

“Ha!” said Master Landriot, “that might be; 
those folks have only to look at you for all sorts of 
misfortune to happen to you; in a word, they can 
affect a whole herd with the rot, and they can, if it be 
their pleasure, make the wine turn in the casks.” 

“ I hope he will be arrested ? ” 

“ This very day. The officer went in search of the 


244 


Captain Satan, or, 

bailiff, on purpose. Before this evening, if God wills, 
he will be locked in the prison at Toulouse, and we 
will go to see him burned.” 

“Yes,” ventured a timid one, “but who will arrest 
him ? ” 

“All of us, if it be necessary. No one will hesitate 
to deliver the country from that plague, I hope.” 

“Landriot is right,” cried the assembly. “We will 
all go. You will go with us, sacristan, and you will 
take a vessel of holy water.” 

The sacristan, a little, old man with a pale, fat face, 
who had listened to the conversation with an anxious 
air, made a gesture of terror when thus addressed. 

“ Yes,” said the landlord ; “ Guillemin will go.” 

“Undoubtedly,” stammered the sacristan, “un- 
doubtedly, the holy water . . . but you will have 

forks, will you not ? ” 

“ Our forks and our knives, bloodthirsty man ! ” ex- 
claimed Landriot, brandishing his cutlass. “Let us 
but wait until the officer returns.” 

Whilst this was going on at the inn, a result fore- 
seen by Binaldo, who had not confided in M. Landriot 
unintentionally, the false officer reached the bailiff’s 
house. 

At the visitor’s first words, the man hastened to seat 
him in his own easy-chair, and insisted on standing be- 
fore him, as a mark of humility and deference. 

The bailiff was a corpulent man with a florid face ; 
dull light blue eyes, veiled by long light lashes gave 
to his face an expression of indecision, detrimental to 
the authority of his acts. As for the rest, he was 
simple-minded, ignorant ; loving ease above all else, 
he preferred to be guided in his steps and did not 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 245 

often venture to take the initiative in an enter- 
prise. 

He exercised his office with an absurd solemnity 
and would gladly have put the good-will of a man 
whose dislike he feared, or from whom he hoped for 
favor, before the law. All connected with the law 
were to him objects of adoration ; a sergeant seemed 
to him a superior being ; he was in a state of ecstasy 
when, on his rare visits to Toulouse, he had the honor 
of meeting the lowest official, and the very name of 
the King drew from him protestations of respect and 
devotion which the most exaggerated hyperboles could 
imperfectly express. 

Rinaldo saw very quickly with what sort of person- 
age he had to deal, and with secret satisfaction he said 
to himself : 

“ The devil is on my side ; I did not hope for such 
success.” 

When the supposed officer was seated and when he 
had exhausted all the words he could to enlist the 
bailiff of Colignac and to flatter him, the conversation 
commenced. 

“Do you know what I think at this 1 moment?” 
asked Rinaldo. 

“ My perspicacity does not go that far,” modestly 
replied the bailiff ; “be kind enough, sir, to tell me 
your thought.” 

“ Well, sir, I just said to myself that you were born 
under a lucky star and that many people might envy 
you your position, now, if they knew the important 
service you are called upon to render to the King and 
to the law.” 

« To the King ! To the law ! ” cried the bailiff, 


246 Captain Satan, or, 

whom those two magical words inspired with respect- 
ful emotion. 

“ To the King, to the law,” repeated the stranger. 
“ I have told you that I was an officer from the prov- 
ostship of Paris ; but I have not explained to you 
the reason of my trip to this province. It is on serious 
business, sir.” 

“ Ah ! ah ! serious business ! ” repeated the man, 
opening his dull eyes as wide as possible. 

“You may judge of it. I am charged to arrest a 
great culprit, sir, a man who has published infamous 
works in which the principles of our holy religion are 
trampled underfoot, works in which the author does 
not fear to confess his diabolical practices, and in 
which the impudence of the magician is mingled with 
the blasphemies of the heretic.” 

“ Why, that man is a horrible criminal,” cried the 
bailiff, clasping his hands. 

“ He deserves the stake, sir. Thanks to his hellish 
skill, he succeeded in escaping from Paris and of evad- 
ing me for several days. I followed him, and now, I 
have him. By saying : I have him, I mean to say that 
I know where he has taken refuge and that he can no 
longer escape me.” 

“ Can he be ... in Colignac ? ” ventured the 
bailiff. 

“ You have guessed it. He has been here since yes- 
terday.” 

“ What ! ” cried the bailiff, deeming it proper to ap- 
pear virtuously indignant, “ such a culprit was within 
our walls, and I knew nothing of it ! Ah ! What will 
you think of my zeal, sir ? ” 

“ Best assured, your zeal is not at fault. Nothing 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 24 7 

at first sight distinguishes a culprit from an innocent 
man, and you might easily have passed by our man 
without his having appeared suspicious to you.” 

“ It must be so.” 

“ He whom I am looking for,” continued Rinaldo, 
“is at present in the house of Count de Colignac.” 

That name caused the bailiff to make a slight grim- 
ace. He feared the Count greatly and did not care 
to interfere in his affairs, but his zeal should triumph 
over all personal consideration. 

He ventured to object timidly : 

“ I would remind your Honor that Count de Colig- 
nac is a good Christian and a faithful servant of the 
King.” 

“ What matters that ? Do the wolves mind enter- 
ing a sheep-fold ? But I have not told you the name 
of my fugitive.” 

“Ho.” 

“ It is Cyrano de Bergerac.” . 

“ Bergerac ! ” cried the bailiff. “ Was it not he who 
published an abominable libel, a tissue of lies and in- 
famy, against His Eminence Cardinal Mazarin ? ” 

“It was. You see that he deserves no pity. You 
know the man now ; I have nothing more to give you 
but some directions with regard to him.” 

“ Directions ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly, since you will arrest him.” 

“Ip” cr i ec [ the bailiff, with agitation. 

“ Do you shrink from the task, from the duty ? Ah, 
sir, if the King knew it ! ” 

“ The King ! that is true ! I will arrest him, sir, I 
will arrest him. But, what if he should resist ? ” 

“ The inhabitants of Colignac will help you if neces- 


248 Captain Satan, or, 

sary. Believe me, sir, that in entrusting this mission 
to you, I am only obeying a sentiment of deference 
for you. You are the first magistrate of this district, 
the representative of the royal law ; it is but proper 
that I should yield to you the honor of a capture to 
accomplish which I have employed my entire skill. 
Was I not right in saying that you were born under a 
lucky star ? ” 

“ So much honor ! ” murmured the bailiff, in con- 
fusion. “ Believe me, sir. . . . Will the King 

know that it is I who. . . .” 

“ Surely. Will I not have to make my report and 
relate all the facts faithfully ? ” 

“ The King will know it ! This is one of the proud- 
est days of my life ! ” 

Rinaldo drew from his belt a parchment which he 
held before the bailiff’s eyes and to which was ap- 
pended a large seal bearing the arms of France. 

The bailiff bowed respectfully. 

“Here,” said the officer, “is the grand provost’s 
order which gives me full power in this affair ; this 
power, I now delegate to you.” 

The bailiff was too deeply inspired with respect to 
venture to ask to examine Rinaldo’s pretended order. 
He had seen the arms of France, that was sufficient 
for him; to require more would have seemed an 
enormity to him. 

“ Take a piece of parchment,” continued the maker 
of dupes, “ and write, according to the usual formula, 
the order for the arrest, wheresoever he may be, of 
M. Savinien de Cyrano, called de Bergerac, accused of 
heresy and of sorcery. I will sign when you have 
finished,” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 249 

The bailiff seated himself at a table, and with a very 
unskilful hand began to write the order. 

The man felt the perspiration trickling down his 
brow, so afraid was he that he would not properly 
draw up the form demanded of him. After having 
chewed the end of his pen many times, while he 
sought a rebellious word, he concluded his work in- 
differently. 

Binaldo took the document from the bailiff’s hands, 
read it with well-simulated gravity and returned it to 
its author, having signed at the end the name of 
Claude Papelin, which he had assumed for the occasion. 

“ You are right here,” concluded Rinaldo. “ In an 
hour, you must repair to Colignac’s castle to proceed 
with M. Cyrano’s arrest.” 

“ And then ? ” 

“ Then ?... Have you a jail at Colignac ? ” 

“ Of course ! ” 

“ Well ! you must put your man in it, and have him 
guarded closely until my return.” 

“ Are you going away, sir ? ” 

“ I am going to Toulouse, where I have important 
business to attend to and from there I will bring back 
a squad of police to conduct your prisoner to Paris. 
Until then, you will answer to me for him with your 
head.” 

“ I am ready to pay with my life my obedience to 
the orders of the King, sir. I am not very quick to 
form a resolution ; but, when I have orders, you see, 
the devil could not make me turn back.” 

“ That is well said, sir. How, I will leave you in 
order not to delay you any longer in the execution of 
your mandate.” 


250 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ And I will hasten to Landriot’s inn, where I shall 
surely find my clerk and several excellent people 
ready to second me.” 

“If I am not mistaken, they are prepared for the 
event. Master Landriot seems to be a gossip, and as 
I told him a few words relative to the object of my 
journey, I fancy he did not keep them to himself very 
long.” 

“ The matter is sure. Ah ! you are a remarkable 
man, sir. You do not neglect one detail.” 

The two men left the house and turned in the di- 
rection of the tavern. 

There, while the bailiff talked with the peasants as- 
sembled in the coffee-room, Einaldo had his horse 
saddled, and set out, trusting to his delegate’s promise. 

He had attained his object; he had succeeded in 
stopping Cyrano or at least in delaying him long 
enough so that the nobleman would not be able 
to thwart his plans and intervene at the moment 
when, in concert with Ben- Joël, he was making an 
extreme effort to gain possession of de Lembrat’s 
document. 

Following the valet’s directions, Ben- Joël had been 
at Saint-Sernin for more than two days, and although 
he had not gained the curé’s confidence, matters were 
in good shape. 

Einaldo would arrive just in time to gather the 
fruit of his strategy. 

Once the document taken, at whatsoever price it 
might be, Einaldo cared little for Cyrano ; he would 
return to Paris, give his master the treasure obtained 
with so much difficulty, and would get the rich reward 
promised him for his skilfulness. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 251 

The strange idea of Roland’s valet, that idea he had 
just put in execution, was not as puerile as it appeared 
to be. 

At that epoch the forms of the law were somewhat 
irregular ; people were arrested for any reason what- 
soever, and languished in prison without any one de- 
ciding to inquire into their fate, and into the real 
cause of their detention. 

They had been imprisoned, that was sufficient for 
them to appear guilty. 

The imputation of an imaginary crime was often 
sufficient to snatch an innocent man from liberty, and 
on that accusation alone their wrong was believed in. 
The suppositions amplified the fact, the inquiry ren- 
dered the details more obscure instead of elucidating 
them ; the formidable machinery of the law had dead- 
ened in the accused all sense of resistance, and deliv- 
ered him bowed, doubting himself, to his prejudiced 
judges. Often too, daring neither to condemn nor to 
absolve him, in the face of the obscurity of the facts, 
they simply forgot him in his jail. 

Rinaldo knew all that very well, and he had shown 
the proof of his skill in deciding to set out, without 
awaiting the end of the adventure. 

To remain, would have been to expose himself to a 
meeting, to explanations, to inquiries and very prob- 
ably to a disgraceful defeat. 

To put a weapon in the bailiff’s hands, to urge him 
forward and to leave him to himself, after seeing him 
filled with the importance of his mission, was, on the 
contrary, the preparation of mysterious complications, 
in the midst of which the bailiff embarrassed, but in- 
flexible nevertheless in his obedience, must necessarily 


252 


Captain Satan, or, 

persist in the execution of an act, whose principle he 
was too respectful and too # timid to dare to argue. 

The crafty knave had given the bailiff only general 
information regarding the facts imputed to Cyrano. 
He had insisted on one point only: the importance 
of the arrest. 

In the manner related, the magistrate was to pro- 
ceed all alone and to become, unknown to him, the 
accomplice of Rinaldo’s machinations and the unex- 
pected auxiliary of Roland de Lembrat’s enterprises. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 253 


XXVI. 

Savinien, Count de Colignac and Marquis de 
Cussan were still at the table, when the steward of 
the castle announced to his master that the bailiff 
wished to speak to him without delay. 

“ The bailiff ! ” exclaimed Colignac. “ Ah ! AVhat 
can M. Cadignan want with us ? Admit him, he can 
explain while drinking a glass of old Médoc with 
us.” 

The door of the dining-room opened, and M. Cadig- 
nan appeared, blinking his eyes and bowing low 
enough to break his back. 

“ Not so much form, my dear Cadignan,” cried the 
Count ; “ we are in an excellent humor, and ceremony 
displeases us. Sit down, take a glass and tell us the 
reason for your visit.” 

As we have seen, Count de Colignac was a bon 
vivant , not at all proud and always ready to grasp an 
opportunity to refill his glass and to empty it to the 
health of somebody. 

The bailiff sat down, assuming a modest air. He 
was, at the moment, greatly embarrassed by his 
size, and did not dare to raise his eyes to the three 
men. 

The sight of Cyrano, in particular, had inspired him 
with a sort of terror, which he vainly tried to hide. 

“ Well ! ” said Savinien, taking pity on his confusion, 
“ do you refuse, sir, to explain to us ? To your health, 
bailiff, although your health, it seems to me ? cannot 


254 


Captain Satan, or, 

be much improved. You are, indeed, the most im- 
posing magistrate of France and Navarre.” 

The poet held out his glass toward that of M. 
Cadignan. The latter dared not refused the honor 
paid him, but his hand trembled so, that he spilled on 
the cloth part of the wine poured out for him. 

“ Are you ill ? ” the Count inquired of him. “ You 
seem quite upset. Drink, that will do you good.” 

Cadignan complied and thought he should strangle 
as he drank, for his throat was contracted by an un- 
conquerable emotion. 

However, he did not lose sight of the object of his 
visit. 

“ Count,” said he, “ I desire to speak with you in 
particular. Will you grant me that favor ? ” 

“ Gladly ; but why not explain yourself before these 
two gentlemen. I have no secrets from them.” 

“ There is no question here of your secrets, Count.” 

“That is different. Then follow me into the 
garden. It will be so much the better, for our meal is 
finished and the air will do us good.” 

The Count rose, and, preceding the bailiff, descended 
the three steps of the marble perron leading from the 
dining-room into a garden designed according to the 
pretentious taste of the epoch. 

The two men walked several paces in silence. 
Bergerac and Marquis de Cussan followed at a re- 
spectful distance, making sport in low tones of the 
heavy step and the grotesque looks of the bailiff of 
Colignac. 

M. Cadignan felt more ill at ease than ever, and 
could not find words with which to begin his ex- 
ordium. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 255 

“Well, my dear friend,” said Colignac to him, 
“ speak now, we are alone.” 

Forced into his last intrenchment, the timid magis- 
trate decided to do what he considered his duty, spar- 
ing the Count’s feelings at the same time, for he did 
not wish to alienate his favor. 

“Count,” he commenced, in a conciliating air, “you 
know that there is not one of us in this town of 
Colignac, who is not your ally, your relative, your 
friend or your humble servant, and that, in con- 
sequence nothing can happen to you that will not 
touch us directly.” 

“ Peste , that is a promising beginning. Continue, 
my clear, you interest me prodigiously.” 

“ I say, then, Count,” continued the bailiff, repeat- 
ing himself a little in order to gain time and not to 
arrive at the fact too brusquely, “ I say then no pleas- 
ure can come to you at which we would not rejoice, 
and no calamity in which we would not share. Now, 
we are informed from an excellent source, that 
you . . . that . . . that you. . . .” 

Cadignan stammered. 

“Well, then,” said the Count. “. . . That 

I . . .” 

“ That you have in your castle a heretic and a 
sorcerer.” 

Those words were spoken very hurriedly, in one 
breath, and upon their delivery the bailiff felt relieved 
of an enormous load. 

The Count began to laugh. 

“ A sorcerer,” said he. “ Oh, gods ! name him to 
me. I will put him in your grasp. But take care, 
calumny should be feared.” 


256 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ How, Count, is there any place as good a judge of 
sorcerers as Paris ? Well, I have received from that 
very Paris the order to arrest him whom you are 
sheltering.” 

“ The devil ! ” cried the Count, looking at his com- 
panion, whom he was beginning to think mad, “the 
matter is serious, M. Cadignan.” 

“ The King is interested in it, and I have here a 
warrant signed by one of the officers from the provost- 
ship of Paris.” 

Colignac was so surprised that he could not 
reply. 

“ You see, Count,” continued the bailiff, feeling more 
at his ease on not encountering any resistance, “ I know 
very well what will wound you in this. The magician 
is a person whom you like. But fear nothing ; out of 
consideration for you, things will go on quietly ; you 
have only to deliver him up to me, and, for love of 
you, I promise on my honor to have him burned with- 
out a fuss.” 

“ You are exceedingly kind,” smiled the Count. 
“ The sorcerer’s name, if you please ? ” 

The bailiff prudently lowered his voice. 

“ It is your guest,” he whispered, “ M. Savinien de 
Cyrano.” 

At those words, Colignac burst into such a roar of 
laughter, that be was obliged to plant his fists in his 
sides to moderate that hearty explosion. 

M. Cadignan, disconcerted, looked at him with an 
offended air. 

“ Come here, Bergerac, come here ! ” cried the 
Count, half suffocated. “ Ah ! such things are bad for 
digestion.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 257 

“ Sir, I cannot join in your gaiety,” said the bailiff, 
trying to purse up his thick lips. 

Savinien and the Marquis came up. 

“Come, my dear boy,” said Colignac to Cyrano, 
“ listen to M. Cadignan : I am disabled. It seems 
that you are a heretic, a sorcerer, the devil in person, 
and he has come to arrest you.” 

“ Bah ! ” said Cyrano ; “ they are fond of joking at 
Colignac ! ” 

“ I do not wish to argue with you, sir,” said the 
bailiff, severely. “ I am executing my orders, nothing 
more. In the King’s name, I arrest you.” 

“ All alone ? ” sneered Cyrano. 

“ I have the strength of the law on my side,” said 
Cadignan, solemnly. 

“ And also,” interpolated Cussan, “ a band of peas- 
ants ready to help you. I have just espied the rabble 
gathered in the courtyard of the castle.” 

“ Now, that is too much ! ” exclaimed Colignac. “ M. 
Cadignan, I will have you and your men sent home 
with switches, if you do not leave as quickly as possi- 
ble. Arrest Savinien ! The thing goes beyond all 
bounds.” 

Cyrano reflected. 

“ After all,” said he, turning to the bailiff, “ it is 
possible that your mission was to arrest me. Show 
me your order.” 

“ It might be,” he added, aside, “ that there is some 
strategy of de Lembrat’s beneath this, and that that 
old madman of a Jean de Lamothe has lent himself 
to this manoeuvre, planned probably to bar my way.” 

The bailiff unfolded his parchment and held it be- 
fore Cyrano’s eyes. 


258 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Bah ! ” cried the latter. “ What is that ? An 
order signed by an officer ! Since when has an officer 
had the right to order an arrest ? ” 

“ Since that right was delegated to him by the prov- 
ost, sir,” replied Cadignan. 

“ Where is this officer ? Why is he not here ? ” 

“ That is our business, and not yours. Come, fol- 
low me without resistance. I will respect the honor 
done you by M. de Colignac in receiving you into his 
house.” 

“ Bailiff,” said Cyrano, seizing the man’s arm and 
fixing his sparkling eyes upon him, “ know, that at 
this moment, neither God nor the devil would be ca- 
pable of arresting me.” 

“You see, M. de Colignac,” cried poor Cadignan, in 
despair, “ he blasphemes ! ” 

“And,” resumed Cyrano, “depend upon it that if 
you or your men attempt to place your finger on the 
skirt of my cloak, I will slash you in such a manner 
that your flesh will hang in slices around your neck. 
That being said, I am your servant, M. Cadignan.” 

“ But, . . .” ventured the magistrate. 

“ Sangué ! Sir,” cried the Count, “must you be 
horsewhipped to make you go? No, you are not 
worth the trouble. Simply go to bed, keep your feet 
warm, and when your brain has become clear, you 
must return to ask my pardon for your absurd insult.” 

“ I will go, Count, but I do not renounce my rights. 
I wished to avoid a scandal. If you do not, very well. 
As long as M. Cyrano *is with you, I shall respect your 
house ; when he leaves it. . . .” 

“ I shall leave it this evening, M. Cadignan,” inter- 
rupted Cyrano. “You are now posted, I hope. You 


The Adventures of Cyrano cle Bergerac. 259 

can put your army on foot and prepare your honorable 
ribs.” 

Cadignan made a gesture of fury, planted his hat 
on his head and left the castle with lengthy strides. 

“ That excellent man is beside himself ! ” said Ber- 
gerac, calmly, watching him disappear. 

“Do not let us jest too much,” said Colignac. 
“ Cadignan is as stupid as an owl and as stubborn as a 
mule. He will not easily give up his idea, and he will 
play you some trick. If you will take my advice, you 
will stay here another day. In that time, I will throw 
some light on matters.” 

“ You are jesting ! I should be at Saint-Sernin, and, 
make yourself easy, your Cadignan will not prevent 
me from reaching there.” 

“ What does that order mean, forsooth ? What sort 
of madness has brought this persecution upon you ? ” 

“ You know it well. I wrote my Voyage à la Lune , 
and the fools saw in it all sorts of attacks against reli- 
gion and all sorts of practices, born of my fancy, which 
make me a first cousin to the devil. Do they not call 
me Captain Satan ? Enemies, — and I have them, — 
have no doubt thought it well to add this trouble to a 
great deal more they have made me. But, bah ! I 
scoff at their inventions. With a sword and a horse, 
I feel myself strong enough to overturn or to clear all 
obstacles. That is why, my dear friend, I shall set out 
at the close of day.” 

“We will accompany you.” 

“ I will not permit it.” 

“ What if some misfortune occurs to you ! ” 

“ Ah ! What do you think will happen to me ? 
Worthy Cadignan trembled with fear when only look- 


m 


Captain Satan, or, 

ing at me. Would lie dare to venture to face me on 
the high-road, even were he to be supported by all the 
inhabitants of Colignac ? ” 

“You are probably right. His enterprise having 
miscarried, the bailiff will no doubt ask assistance of 
the Marshal at Toulouse. While he is losing his time 
there, you will be far on your way. You will be wise 
to leave this evening by the park and to take the road 
without going through the city streets.” 

“ My faith, no ! ” said Cyrano, always disposed to 
take the most rash course. “ That would make them 
think I was afraid, and you know very well that such 
is not the case.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 26 1 


XXVII. 

On rejoining his auxiliaries, that is to say Master 
Landriot and his friends, the bailiff’s face wore a dis- 
comforted expression, as he related to them in a few 
words his ill-success. 

All returned to the inn, where a council was held 
as to the best decision to be made. 

“ I am afraid of vexing the Count,” said Cadignan. 
“ Therefore it will be necessary to operate quietly and 
unknown to M. de Colignac as much as possible. We 
might assemble on the road to Cussan, at some little 
distance from the town, and seize the sorcerer when 
he appears.” 

“ I will take my holy- water sprinkler along in order 
to exorcise him,” said the sacristan. 

“ That can do no harm,” agreed Cadignan. 

“ And I my arquebuse,” added Landriot. 

“ That is right. Do you others have good sticks, 
lances, knives and some strong cord to bind the pris- 
oner with. Gavisac, Pierre Corme and Lescuyer will 
watch near the castle, and when the magician leaves 
they must hasten to warn us, at the turning of the 
Gilded Cross {Croix- Dorée). 

“ Agreed, sir,” said the three men designated. 

“There! Now, we will separate, to meet again in 
one hour at the Gilded Cross. I shall go to see that 
the jail is in condition to receive the prisoner, and to 
have two new bolts put on the door.” 

It was five o’clock when Cyrano left the castle. 


262 Captain Satan, or, 

The Count and the Marquis accompanied him to the 
square of the town, when, at his request, they took 
leave of him, after assuring themselves that no alarm- 
ing demonstration was being made on the main street, 
whose entire length they could see. 

Savinien, with head erect and inhaling the fresh 
air, slowly walked down the street. His eagle-like 
nose and his terrible eyes alarmed all the gossips of 
the town, who had been informed by their husbands 
of the adventure in preparation, and who were sta- 
tioned at their doors in order to see the sorcerer pass. 

He smiled with an air truly Satanic, as if he were 
making sport of the good people’s alarm. 

Ho one dared to utter a word along the road. 

He quickened his horse’s pace in order to make up 
the time lost with those bravadoes. 

Meanwhile, at the Gilded Cross, Cadignan, with 
about twenty peasants, was patiently awaiting his man. 

Master Landriot acted as lieutenant to the corpu- 
lent bailiff, assisted besides by his clerk, ready for ac- 
tion, and flanked by the sacristan, who was armed 
with a gigantic holy-water sprinkler in a brass vessel 
filled with holy water. 

The peasants had pikes, forks and old guns. The 
arsenal of spiritual and temporal weapons was com- 
plete. 

Landriot, like a skilful tactician, had, besides, 
stretched a rope across the road. 

That rope, tightly fastened to two staddles of oak, 
about a foot below the ground, mingled in color with 
the dust on the road and could not fail in its effect, in 
case Cyrano, escaping the first attack, might attempt 
to run away. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 263 

Pierre Corine, — one of the three spies taken by 
Cadignan from the main body of the band, — soon 
came running, breathless, to the crossroad of the 
Gilded Cross. 

“ He is there ! ” said he, “ he is there ! ” 

All hastened to take up arms. The turning in the 
road still prevented them from seeing the traveler, but 
they could distinctly hear his horse’s hoofs. 

Cadignan was overcome by an instant of weakness. 
But the remembrance of the officer’s words, the pros- 
pect of the service he was called upon to render to 
society, to religion, and still more, probably, the 
security his escort guaranteed him, soon dissipated 
that feeling. 

At the very moment when Savinien, thinking him- 
self freed from the bailiff’s annoying and ridiculous 
claims, reaching the turning of the Gilded Cross, he 
found himself face to face with the magistrate. 

His horse, frightened by the noise made by the 
weapons, stopped short, and Cyrano saw at once that, 
while ten peasants supported the bailiff, the rest of 
the band had turned a grove of oaks, in order to 
gather en masse behind him and to cut off all retreat 
to Colignac. 

“ Ha ! what ! Bailiff, is this serious ? ” cried the 
nobleman, not deigning to draw his sword in order to 
make a passage for himself. 

“ I arrest you, in the King’s name,” said the bailiff, 
raising his voice to hide his secret terror. 

Then, to his men, he said : 

“ Take the prisoner ! ” 

“ You were told, Master Cadignan, to go to bed,” 
sneered Cyrano ; “ allow me to give you occasion.” 


264 


Captain Satan, or, 

At the same time, he struck the unlucky magis- 
trate’s fat face two or three blows with his riding 
whip, spurred his horse, made an opening in the throng 
rushing to meet him and flew at a gallop along the 
road to Cussan. 

At the end of twenty paces, the poor horse came 
to the rope stretched across the road, and horse and 
horseman fell in the dust together. 

As he fell, Cyrano uttered a terrible oath, which 
was answered by a cry of triumph from Cadignan’s 
band, and the nobleman, in an instant was surrounded, 
fallen upon by the numbers and finally disarmed and 
securely bound. 

He did not even have the satisfaction of defending 
himself, one leg having been imprisoned under the 
horse’s side, at the time of the accident. 

He was lifted from the ground, having been bound 
from his shoulders to his feet by a strong rope, and 
he received a shower of water on his face. 

It was the sacristan’s holy-water sprinkler begin- 
ning its work. 

“ Satanus Diabolas ,” said the servant of the church, 
mutilating his Latin, “I conjure thee by the great 
living God ! ” * 

“ Knaves ! Pedants ! Stinking beasts ! ” cried Cyr- 
ano, “ it will cost you dear for having thus annoyed 
a man of my stamp. I will. . . .” 

“ Satanus Diabolas ,” interrupted Landriot’s harsh 
voice, taking up the sacristan’s lame exorcism, “ I con- 
jure thee in the name of God and of St. John to leave 
us alone ; for if thou stirrest foot or hand, I will dis- 
embowel thee.” 

And he brandished his cutlass with a fierce air! 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 265 

During the discussion between Cyrano and his van- 
quishers, the clerk examined the former’s luggage, 
contained in a small portmanteau fastened behind the 
horse’s saddle. 

He found there a volume of Natural Philosophy by 
Descartes, and, on seeing the circles by which the 
philosopher, in that work, has distinguished the move- 
ment of each planet, he exclaimed with a conviction 
that would have made Bergerac laugh, had he not 
been in such a pitiful plight. 

“See here, sir, these are the magic figures by 
means of which the sorcerer produces his enchant- 
ments.” 

Master Cadignan, who was bathing his cheeks with 
the holy water in order to soothe the smarting pain 
caused by the blows received on such a glorious oc- 
casion, took the book, looked at the astronomical 
shapes with the air of a connoisseur and shook his 
head, saying: 

“ This is an overwhelming discovery for the accused. 
I will inform the officer of this. Now, my brave fel- 
lows, take the prisoner on your shoulders and carry 
him to the jail at Colignac.” 

The triumphal cortège began to move. 

Cyrano did not utter a word of complaint; he 
seemed resigned ; indeed he was already dreaming of 
a means of escaping from that dilemma, a result he 
would not have attained had he indulged in impreca- 
tions against his guards. 

The nobleman’s horse had been left to himself on 
the road. 

The clerk, a man of order, took him by his bridle 
and gently led him to the town, where he put him in 


266 


Captain Satan, or, 

Master Cadignan’s stable, just as the doors of the jail 
closed upon Cyrano. 

That jail had for its guardian a shoemaker of the 
name of Cabirol, and as he was seldom given prisoners 
to guard, Cabirol devoted almost all his time to the 
exercise of a trade in which he flattered himself that 
he was a master. 

A workman of his calling also served him as assist- 
ant jailer, on the rare occasions when an inhabitant of 
Colignac was expiating some misdeed behind the bars. 

Cabirol’s wife and daughter completed the quartette 
of free occupants of the jail, a sort of vault above 
which was a large room, which served at once as 
parlor and shop, and one floor divided into three small 
chambers. 

There were in that cellar but four cells, without 
light and air. 

It was into the smallest of these that Cyrano was 
cast. 

“Pizoche,” cried the jailer to his servant, when 
Cyrano had been placed, still bound, on the cold 
parlor-floor, “light the lantern and precede me. We 
must take this ring-leader of wizards to the madman’s 
cell.” 

Pizoche obeyed, and Cabirol, taking his calm and 
silent prisoner on his shoulders, carried him away to 
his cell. 

There he flung him upon some straw for the most 
part rotten, and knowing that he could not attempt 
to escape, he began to take off his bonds, having sent 
Pizoche away. 

Cyrano, once free, could see, by the light of the 
lantern, the repulsive aspect of the cell he was sen- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 267 

fenced to live in, and which Cabirol significantly 
called the madman’s cell. 

“ My good fellow,” he then said to the jailer, “ if 
you are giving me this stone vestment for a coat, it is 
too large, but if it is for a tomb, it is too small.” 

“ Yery well,” said Cabirol, morosely, “you will get 
used to it.” 

And he continued his inspection of all the corners 
of the cellar, but that examination might have been 
dispensed with, for it was of hard stone, without a 
sign of a window, and offered no other exit than the 
door which was securely locked* 

During that careful as well as useless scrutiny, 
Savinien, familiar with the customs of the men in 
prisons, discreetly slipped into his hose all the money 
he had on him. 

It was well for him that he did so. 

Cabirol approached him, and began to search him 
unceremoniously. 

“ What are you doing ? ” Cyrano asked, affecting a 
tone of anger. 

“ I have a right to,” replied Cabirol. “ Moreover, 
I suppose I am doing you no wrong.” 

“ On the contrary, you are laboring at this moment 
for my good,” said Cyrano, smiling at his joke. “ You 
see, my friend ! If, as they say, I trade with Satan, I 
must put the proceeds in my purse.” 

“ Oh, vertubleu ! ” then cried the jailer, vexed at not 
finding a penny, “ I knew that he was a sorcerer. He 
is as beggarly as his patron Beelzebub.” 

He took up his bunch of keys to reopen the door of 
the cell and to go to relate his ill-luck to his wife. 

Savinien profited by the movement when Cabirol 


268 


Captain Satan, or, 

had his back turned, to quickly extract three pistoles 
from their hiding-place : 

“Jailer,” said he,” I wish to show you that I am a 
good devil. There is a pistole ; I beg of you to have 
me some supper sent hither; I have eaten nothing 
since noon.” 

Cabirol stared in amazement. 

“ A pistole ? ” cried he. “ Where did you get it ? ” 

“ There is another to repay you for the trouble you 
are about to take.” 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” smiled the jailer, suddenly relenting, 
“ what did they say to me ? God forgive me, you are 
an honest gentleman ! ” 

He extended his hand for the money, adding : 

“I will do as you ask.” 

“ Do still more,” — and a third pistole glistened be- 
tween Cyrano’s fingers, — “ send your assistant to me 
to keep me company, for I do not like solitude.” 

Cabirol’s hand was again outstretched. 

“ They were surely mistaken in putting you here,” 
he murmured, in a softer voice.. “ So generous, so 
peaceable a man, capable of. . . . Ho, I cannot 

believe it. Keep up courage, sir, I will take it upon 
myself to prove you as pure as snow in less than three 
days.” 

These protestations did not keep Cabirol from bolt- 
ing the door on going out. 

“ I know the fellow’s weakness,” then said Cyrano 
to himself ; “ if the servant is what I think him, the 
rats scampering about here will not have me for a 
companion long.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 269 


XXVIII. 

Savinien spent a very unpleasant hour in his cell. 
He was commencing to grow impatient and to doubt 
his lucky star, when the jingling of keys and the push- 
ing of the bolts on the door, aroused him from his re- 
flections. 

The light of a lamp entered the cell, and Pizoche 
appeared, carrying a steaming pot, which he set down 
quite near Cyrano. 

“Well and good!” said he, “my money has not 
been stolen.” 

“ Ah, ah ! ” replied Pizoche, whose naïve and weak 
face wore a broad smile, “ you are right not to grieve ; 
here is a cabbage soup which if it were . . . 

Well, it is some of our mistress’ own soup; and, my 
faith, not one drop of grease has been taken off it.” 

Speaking thus, he dipped the ladle and also the tips 
of his fingers into the mixture, as if to invite Cyrano 
to imitate him. 

The nobleman was hungry. 

He bravely took his share of the coarse food, seized 
the wooden spoon given him by Pizoche, and blowing 
his portion to cool it, in his turn buried it in the 
savory soup. 

“ Morguienne ! ” exclaimed the servant, “ you are a 
good fellow. They say that you have enemies ! they 
are traitors ! Ah ! could they but come hither to see ! 
Be sharp, be sharp ! Sir sorcerer ! he who dances 
keeps on moving ! ” 


270 


Captain Satan, or, 

Cyrano laughed at that naivete ; and began to rival 
in ardor Pizoche, who put spoonful after spoonful into 
his immense mouth. 

When the pot was empty, the two companions could 
talk. 

Pizoche had unceremoniously unhooked his vest in 
order to be more comfortable. 

Savinien then noticed a scapulary which the man 
wore under his garment. 

That discovery suggested to him an idea which he 
did not fail to put into execution. 

“ You are poor, my friend, are you not ? ” he asked 
of Pizoche, “ and you do not earn much in this jail ? ” 

“ Alas,” replied the clownish fellow, “ if you were a 
wizard, you could not have hit the mark better.” 

“Well, then,” continued Cyrano, “take this 
pistole.” 

Pizoche held out his hand, but it trembled so that 
he could scarcely close it when Cyrano had placed in 
it the pistole he had offered him. 

That unsteadiness surprised him somewhat. 

“ What ails you, my boy ? ” he asked. 

“ Sir, it is joy,” replied the poor devil. “ I have 
never had so much money of my own.” 

“ That being the case, I can make you very happy ! ” 

“ How ? ” 

“ If you are the man who would like to be con- 
cerned in the fulfilment of a vow I have made, 
twenty pistoles shall be yours.” 

“Almighty Father in heaven, twenty pistoles? 
Could I hold so many ? ” 

“ You will see, if you consent.” 

“ Speak, that I may see.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 271 

Cyrano assumed a mysterious air. 

“ You must know, my friend,” said he, “that not a 
quarter of an hour ago, a moment before your arrival, 
my angel appeared to me and promised to show me 
the justice of my cause, provided that I would go to- 
morrow to say mass at Notre-Dame de Cussan, at the 
high altar. I tried to excuse myself on the plea that 
I was in prison ; but the angel replied that a man 
would come, sent by the jailer, to keep me company, 
and that I would only have to bid him conduct me to 
the church. I fancy, my friend, that you are that 
man.” 

“ One cannot tell,” said Pizoche. 

“ Listen : the angel told me that the man would 
then conduct me back to prison and that he must obey 
me under penalty of dying within the year.” 

“ It was not I, I am very sure,” replied the peasant, 
who seemed to receive Cyrano’s insinuations with in- 
difference. 

“I do not know if it is you or some one else ; but I 
know that if he should doubt my word, I have but 
to tell him that he is a member of the scapulary, and 
I say it to you. Reply.” 

“ Ah ! then you have double sight ! I am, indeed, a 
member of the scapulary. It is strange you should 
have guessed that.” 

“ Can you deny my power, now ? ” 

“No. I will, my good sir, do as the angel has com- 
manded me.” 

Cyrano heaved & sigh of satisfaction. 

“But,” continued Pizoche, “it must be at nine 
o’clock to-morrow morning, because Master Cabirol 
will be in town at that time, attending the marriage 


272 


Captain Satan, Of, 

of his daughter to the hangman’s son. Just listen, the 
hangman has a name, as well as a flesh-worm. They 
say that the groom will receive as a wedding-gift 
from his father, enough money for a King’s ransom.” 

Savinien cut short that chatter and said to his dupe : 

“ You must not fail to bring me one of your coats 
to wear that I may not be recognized and which I 
will return to you on coming back to prison.” 

“ I will give you my camlet coat.” 

“ Then, to-morrow morning you must go to Castle 
de Colignac to see if the Count knows of my imprison- 
ment.” 

“ I will go for that too.” 

“Now, adieu,” concluded Cyrano, dismissing his 
auxiliary, whose simplicity lent itself so readily to 
the execution of his plans ; “ I shall try to sleep a 
little.” 

Indeed, he did lie down upon the straw flung in one 
corner of the cell, and tried to rest. 

On the following day, Pizoche arrived before the 
appointed hour. Under his arm he carried the gar- 
ments which Cyrano hastily exchanged for his. 

“ Do you assure me,” asked Pizoche, when the prep- 
arations were completed, “that we will return here 
after mass ? ” 

“ Since I am in your charge, why should I not re- 
turn, I should like to know ? ” 

“Well, you know, a sorcerer like you, who receives 
visits from the good Lord’s angels, must be very sub- 
tle. None the less, let us go out into the air, for it is 
almost nine o’clock.” 

“ Ah ! my friend, I ask nothing better ; precede me 
and take care that we are not discovered.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 273 

“ There is no danger ; just push your hat over your 
nose, which, with all due respect to you, is a very no- 
ticeable mark.” 

Cyrano did not exactly like allusions to the formida- 
ble size of his nose. 

But under the circumstances, he was indulgent to 
Pizoche and contented himself with replying gently : 

“ Your advice is very wise, my friend ; but you have 
forgotten to tell me one thing.” 

“ What is it?” 

“ Have you done the errand at Chateau de Colignac 
which I entrusted to you ? ” 

“Yes! but I found nobody at home, that is, the 
Count left to-day at dawn, with the Marquis de Cus- 
san, to hunt on his estate, Fezac, about twenty leagues 
from here.” 

“ The devil !” cried Cyrano. “Well! . . . Let 

us start.” 

“You are a brave man,” said Pizoche, before leav- 
ing, “ but I must warn you. I will take you to Notre- 
Dame de Cussan ; but first I must tell you that if you 
should try to escape on the way, this little ‘ barker ’ 
will bite your legs.” 

And Pizoche drew from his breeches a long revolver, 
which he showed to Cyrano. 

“Good,” said the poet, “you are a prudent youth, 
but your i barker 9 will die before I give him occasion 
to bite.” 

Talking thus, the prisoner and his cerberus had 
climbed the cellar-steps and reached the parlor of the 
jail. 

Fresh, sweet air came from without, expanding Cyr- 
ano’s lungs. 


274 Captain Satan, or, 

“ Ah ! ” he cried, “ liberty is nice ! Without further 
delay, my hoy, I will pay you what is due you.” 

And opening his hand generously, he offered Pi- 
zoche, chinking them enticingly, the twenty promised 
pistoles, which he had had in readiness in advance. 
It seemed to Pizoche as if he saw twenty suns pour- 
ing their warm rays upon him, he was ashamed to ac- 
cept so much money. 

Mistaking for mistrust what was only hesitation, 
Cyrano said to him : 

“Take them. They are gold and full weight, I 
swear to you.” 

“Ah ! sir, I do not doubt that.” 

“Take them, then. Of what are you thinking?” 

“ I was thinking that Mace’s house is for sale, to- 
gether with the closes and vineyards. I can buy it 
for two hundred livres (pounds); it will take eight 
days to close the bargain, and I would ask you, my 
dear sir, if you please, until Macé can put your pistoles 
in his chest, not to let them become oak-leaves, as does 
sorcerers’ money always.” 

“ Indeed,” said Savinien, laughing at the naïve self- 
ishness, “ I promise you.” 

They left the prison immediately. Pizoche passed 
his companion through a gate leading into the fields 
and made him go about a hundred paces through a 
cornfield. 

Then he took a path meeting the main road diag- 
onally, within gunshot of the last houses in Colignac. 

“ High mass is at ten o’clock,” he then said to Cyr- 
ano. “ Let us walk quickly, if we wish to get there in 
time for the beginning.” 

Cyrano did not need to have the advice repeated. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 275 

Thinking of his poor horse which would have been so 
useful to him, and which at that time was obliged to 
eat out of M. Cadignan’s rack, he hastened along the 
road at such a pace that his companion soon had diffi- 
culty in keeping up with him. 

The church-bell of Cussan was ringing the last sum- 
mons to mass when the two travelers reached the village. 

Almost all the inhabitants were in the fields, for it 
was a week-day, and the curé of Notre-Dame was say- 
ing his mass in the presence of a small assemblage. 
Pizoche, following Cyrano closely, entered the church 
and kneeled in the last row of worshippers with him, 
just as the priest ascended the altar. 

Worthy Pizoche was beginning to feel reassured as 
to the results of the escapade. His prisoner’s docility 
gave him more and more confidence in his promise, 
and he flattered himself that he would be able to take 
him to the jail at Colignac without any trouble, con- 
fessing with admiration that he had never heard speak 
of a sorcerer of such excellent parts. 

Meanwhile the service went on. When it came to 
the offering, all those present rose to kneel, in turn, 
before the altar and kiss the gilded patin according to 
custom, having dropped a modest contribution into the 
pewter plate held out to them by the clerk. 

Savinien slipped a silver piece into Pizoche’s hand. 

“ Give that to the singing-boy for me,” said he ; “I 
will give a pistole myself.” 

“ Surely,” murmured Pizoche, “you are a good 
Christian.” 

His turn had come to rise. He left his place, invit- 
ing Savinien by a gesture to accompany him, and, 
when he heard the prisoner’s footsteps behind him, he 


276 


Captain Satan, or, 

advanced with a feeling of great security toward the 
altar, and fell upon his knees on the marble floor, re- 
peating a short prayer. 

The pewter-plate was passed in front of him; he 
placed the silver piece upon it, then kissing the patin 
devoutly, he rose to give place to Cyrano. 

But the latter seemed in no haste. 

Pizoche turned, cast one sweeping glance around 
the tiny church and utter a prolonged “ ah ! ” which 
greatly scandalized those assembled. 

Cyrano had disappeared. 

He had taken advantage of the moment when Pi- 
zoche ascended the three steps of the choir, and be- 
came utterly absorbed in the fulfilment of his reli- 
gious vows ; he paused a moment, stole slowly along 
the screen which separated the officiating priest from 
the worshippers, then cleared the nave in three bounds 
and finally wandered into the fields. 

He was already outside of the village, when Pi- 
zoche discovered his disappearance and rushed in pur- 
suit of him, striking his forehead with his fist in a 
desperate manner. 

Cyrano knew the country as well as, if not better, 
than the credulous servant. 

Therefore he had no trouble in baffling him in his 
search. After beating through forests and moors, for 
two hours, Pizoche, with bowed head, set out on the 
road to Colignac, racking his brains for an explanation 
of the sorcerer’s flight, but, on the whole, consoled for 
his mischance by the possession of the pistoles which 
he held tightly in his hand, fearing lest he might lose 
them, and which did not seem disposed to change into 
oak-leaves. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 2Y7 


XXIX. 

The distance from Cussan to Toulouse was so short 
that the fugitive could have made it in the two hours. 
A favorable circumstance helped him to clear it in 
one-third of the time. 

As he hastened across fields to avoid Pizoclie’s eye, 
he saw on a heath a horse which had been put out to 
graze without suspicion of a thief or of a person like 
Cyrano then desirious of putting four or five good 
leagues between his collar and the bailiff’s grasp. 

The poet made straight for the horse, bestrode him 
unceremoniously, although he had neither bridle nor 
saddle, and, seizing his mane, set out at a gallop on 
the road to Toulouse, where he arrived toward 
noon. 

At the gates of the city, he alighted and striking 
the horse’s crupper with his hand, the beast by instinct 
started off in the direction of Cussan, while his rider 
modestly entered the suburbs of the city, intending to 
take the post-stage there for Saint-Sernin. 

Cyrano was very poorly dressed. 

The coat and trousers loaned him by Pizoche, were, 
indeed, miserable rags in which the holes could be 
counted by hundreds, or rather, could no longer be 
counted, and the ends of which were ravelled into 
fringes. 

However, the poet, quite inexperienced in point of 
poverty, had arranged those tatters so fantastically, 
that with his stately air and his gait in utter contrast 


â78 Captain Satan, or, 

to his attire, he looked less like a beggar than a dis- 
guised adventurer. 

People were beginning to look at him in an embar- 
rassing fashion, for, notwithstanding those rags, the 
sign of a beggar, he was walking briskly, with bowed 
head, and without extending his hand for alms from 
the passers-by. 

He was not long in seeing that it would be better 
to enter into the spirit of his rôle, and overcoming his 
shame on seeing several stare at him, he went forward 
and in a piteous tone solicited alms, not without 
laughing in his sleeve at the originality of his situa- 
tion. 

Walking along thus, he reached the place du Capi- 
tole, and at the corner of that square ran into a man 
issuing from a house. 

The man having been rudely pushed, uttered an 
oath and a threat. 

“ Have pity on a poor soldier,” groaned Cyrano, 
“ and if you are a good Christian. . . 

An angry exclamation on the part of the man 
whom he had addressed prevented him from complet- 
ing his sentence. 

He raised his eyes and recognized Cabirol, the war- 
den of the jail at Colignac, who had gone to Toulouse 
that very morning, as we know. 

The two men stared at each other in consternation. 

“ Ah ! wretch ! ” cried the jailer, finally, “ I am 
lost ! ” 

Savinien took an extreme measure. 

“ Lend a hand ! sirs,” he cried to the people who 
were commencing to gather around, “lend a hand to 
the law. This man has stolen Count de Colignac’s 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 279 

diamonds ; I have been looking for him for three 
days.” 

Scarcely had he uttered those words, than the 
throng rushed upon the poor jailer, whom Cyrano 
had boldly seized by the collar and held tightly so 
that he could not reply. 

“ Pillage! Pillage!” cried Cyrano’s aids; “let us 
take the thief to the provost.” 

Ten hands snatched Cabirol from Savinien’s grasp. 
The jailer struggled and fell upon the ground, drag- 
ging after him a number of porters and footmen 
hanging to his clothes, like dogs to the sides of a stag. 

For a moment there was an indescribable commo- 
tion. Cyrano profited by the brawl to fly, crying: 
“ Do not let him escape ; I am going for the officers.” 

And he passed through a narrow street which led to 
a quarter in which he hoped to find shelter, to change 
his costume and to obtain a post-chaise. 

Meanwhile, about a dozen constables from the prov- 
ostship hastened to the place du Capitole at the 
sound of the battle valiantly sustained by Cabirol, fell 
upon the populace, dispersed them and faced the jailer 
of Colignac at once recognized by the men of the 
law. 

When he could breathe, Cabirol explained matters 
and related his adventure at length. 

The people, as variable as the wind, wished to ex- 
pend the rest of their irritation on Cyrano ; they 
joined the constables in order to give him chase and 
to again put him behind the bars. 

In less than a half-hour the entire town knew that a 
very dangerous man, a sorcerer of the worst kind, a 
thrice demanded heretic ? had escaped from the jail at 


280 Captain Satan, or, 

Colignac, and was being pursued through the streets 
of Toulouse. 

The good citizens came forth from their houses and 
mingled with the common people and the soldiers to 
witness, and, if necessary, to lend a hand in the cap- 
ture of the great criminal. 

So that Cyrano, who thought himself almost in 
safety, having reached rue de la Friperie, lost in the 
midst of a labyrinth of narrow and winding woods, 
suddenly heard a loud noise and was disagreeably sur- 
prised on seeing a number of constables led by Cabirol 
in person, rush into the other end of that street. 

The fugitive turned back as quickly as his legs 
would carry him. 

But he had been seen. 

The constables and the jailer followed him. They 
ran well, but Cyrano had wings. 

He succeeded in putting between them and him the 
length of four or five lanes and stopped, quite out of 
breath, in a cross- way. 

It was evident that he must find some expedient 
without delay, or succumb. 

Thanks be to God, he had an inventive mind. lie 
besmeared his face, rubbed dust in his hair, divested 
himself of his doublet, tucked up his breeches, and 
flung his hat into a cellar air-hole. 

That done, in the twinkling of an eye so to speak, 
he spread his handkerchief on the pavement, and hav- 
ing put four pebbles at the corners, as did leprous beg- 
gars, he laid down next it, with his stomach on the 
ground, and began to moan piteously. 

Scarcely had he taken that posture than he heard 
the cries of the populace furious in his pursuit, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 281 

A moment later, the crowd rushed like a whirlwind 
into the lane. 

On seeing the tall, lean form stretched on the 
ground, on hearing the lamentable moans of the false 
leper, the good Toulousians redoubled their speed and 
passed, holding their noses, but not without flinging 
several coins into the poor man’s handkerchief. 

Cyrano breathed only when the sound of his perse- 
cutors’ steps died away in the distancé. 

Then, he gathered up the money lying on his 
handkerchief, philosophically slipped it into his pocket 
as the legitimate price of his cleverness, and took 
refuge in an alley in order to resume his clothes. 

At the end of a quarter of an hour, hearing nothing 
more, he resolved to venture out. 

But, as he left his place of refuge, a second band, 
not noisy like the first, but silent and creeping 
stealthily like cats, appeared unexpectedly before him. 

Had Cyrano chosen that moment to cast himself 
into his enemies’ hands, he could certainly not have 
appeared more opportunely. 

A formidable hoot saluted his appearance, and the 
constables as well as the citizens feared they had not 
enough arms to stop him. 

They fell upon him, and seizing him, some by his 
hair, some by his legs, some by his clothes, they 
dragged him to the side of the prison. 

Several hands, thinking more of his money than of 
his person, searched him thoroughly and took from 
him the rest of his pistoles. 

“ Well,” thought Cyrano, still struggling, “I think 
I shall certainly have a great deal of trouble to reach 
Saint-Sernin, Ah ! my poor Ludovic ! ” 


282 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Sirs,” said he, finally, to the constables, “ I put my- 
self in your charge. See that this rabble spares me its 
rudeness ; you will answer for me.” 

“ March,” said a soldier ; “ we will conduct you to 
the town.” 

A loud noise coming from the upper end of the 
town was heard at the moment when Cyrano, 
escorted by his guards, reappeared on the place du 
Capitole. 

Almost immediately a man ran up, and, addressing 
the soldiers, said : 

“ Hold on to your man ; the provost’s constables are 
coming down, claiming that it is their sole privilege 
to lay hands on the prisoner.” 

“ Good ! ” said Cyrano, “ they are now about to dis- 
pute the honor of having taken me.” 

a You belong to us,” said a soldier to him. “And 
beware of falling into the clutches of the provost’s 
people, for you would be sentenced in twenty-four 
hours, and the King himself could not save you.” 

Notwithstanding those words indicating an inten- 
tion of resistance, the city constables did not hold out 
long in the presence of the provost’s men, who arrived 
on the square in good order. 

The head of the band cried : 

“ With us ! ” 

And, suddenly, the city constables and those from 
the provostship closed in a tumultuous melêe. 

Such conflicts often occurred between the two 
bodies, which represented two different and rival 
jurisdictions, that of the King and that of the 
municipality. 

The people championed the cause of the city con- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 283 

stables. They were repulsed with a vigor which 
aroused Cyrano’s admiration. 

“ Peste” said he, “ these are men who fight bravely. 
If they overwhelm their fellow citizens thus, what 
would they do with me ? ” 

The crowd was beginning to disperse. 

Profiting by the confusion, the object of the flight, 
our friend Cyrano allowed himself to be dragged 
along by the stream of people, in which he was so 
well hidden that he again believed himself out of 
peril. 

Meanwhile, the provost’s constables continued their 
attacks on the people and the soldiers of the city de- 
manding with an energy more and more menacing 
the prisoner stolen from them. 

Cyrano kept on running. 

A stout man, who was fleeing also, suddenly cried, 
turning to the people around him : 

“ Shelter ! shelter ! Come, my friends, it will be 
difficult for those rascally constables to turn us out of 
here.” 

And uttering those words, he ran toward a large 
dark door, and knocked loudly on the panel with his 
fist, crying: 

“ Corporation ! Corporation ! Shelter for the peo- 
ple of Toulouse ! ” 

The door opened. The entire band which Cyrano 
had deemed it wise to join, rushed inside. 

There, the good citizens’ gaiety began to return. 

On the contrary, Cyrano’s uneasiness increased. 

Finally, but too late perhaps, he recognized the 
place into which he had stupidly entered. 

The refuge sought by the citizens and several com 


284 Captain Satan, or, 

stables, was the town prison, whose jailer, devoted to 
the corporation, had hastened to open the doors to the 
Toulousians, in order to screen them from the attacks 
of the King’s officers. 

Among the fugitives, there were, as we have said, 
several constables. 

One of them, having regained his composure and 
feeling assured that there was no longer any risk, put 
on a brave front. 

“ Comrades,” said he, “ we will defend ourselves 
here ; let us take possession of the doors, and woe to 
him who shall attempt to break them open.” 

A triumphant cry greeted that proposition, and the 
recent fugitives rushed with an heroic air after the 
spirited constable. 

Cyrano, alone, remained seated on a stone bench 
which was fortunately near him. 

The poor man was about exhausted, and his energy 
could no longer sustain him. Bruised, bleeding, cut 
by the mob’s rough attacks, dispirited at finding him- 
self so far from his object, he was on the point of 
swooning. 

“Ah! friend,” cried the constable, who had pro- 
posed the defence of the place, “ are you afraid, will 
you not go with us ? ” 

Mechanically Cyrano raised his head and made a 
sign in the negative. 

At the sight of that pale face, of the hair matted 
on the temples, of that large nose, the constable rec- 
ognized the captive whose presence he had not re- 
marked sooner owing to the swiftness of his course 
and his anxiety for his own safety. 

“ Ah ! the devil ! ” he exclaimed, “ it is our man, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 2S5 

comrades, it is our man ! Surely, he has a good nose, 
for he took himself to prison, and the provost’s men 
will not get him.” 

Then, forgetting his plans for defence, he rushed 
toward Cyrano, crying : 

“ I take you, prisoner, in the name of the King ! ” 

“ Take me, my friend,” said Cyrano, docilely, whom 
so many events, accomplished in one forenoon, had 
utterly stunned. 

Those words having been spoken, the poet felt all 
the fibres of his being unbend ; having no longer to 
employ strategy, nor strength, he gave way beneath 
the blow, and the valiant among valiants swooned like 
a woman, in the arms of the constable who had just 
arrested him. 


286 


Captain Satan, or, 


XXX. 

When Ben- Joël, traveling under the name of Cas- 
tilian and bearer of Bergerac’s letter, arrived at the 
village of Saint-Sernin and knocked at the door of the 
vicarage, the curé had finished his evening meal and 
was preparing to retire. 

The Bohemian, preceded by Jeanne, the house- 
keeper, entered the dining-room, hat in hand, and 
with an honest and prudent air, gave Jacques the 
envelope containing Cyrano’s missive. 

The curé opened it and looked through the letter 
rapidly. 

But, instead of expressing his feelings aloud and of 
extending a joyous welcome to the messenger, as Ben- 
Joël had expected, Jacques fixed his keen eyes upon 
him and examined him with a sort of mistrust. 

He had not forgotten Savinien’s instructions. Cyrano 
had warned him so emphatically against all surprises 
with regard to the valuable trust, he had recom- 
mended so much precaution, that the good curé did 
not dare, even in the face of almost irrefutable proofs, 
to follow the inclination of his heart and to offer his 
hand to the stranger who had brought him news from 
his foster-brother. 

Instinctively, moreover, Longuépée felt a wall of 
ice between him and that man. 

It was not thus that he had pictured Sulpice, the 
little frivolous clerk, who was nevertheless so full of 
devotion, of whom Cyrano had spoken to him so many 
times, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 287 

The traveler’s sunburned face, his dark eyes, his 
smile, the falseness of which he scarcely succeeded in 
disguising, all accorded ill with the image Longuépée 
had cherished in his mind. 

“The child has grown older; perhaps he has suf- 
fered : he has become a man since Savinien spoke to 
me of him,” finally thought the curé ; “ I was wrong 
not to receive him more kindly.” 

And anxious to make amends for his mistake, Jac- 
ques extended his hand to the newcomer, and, resum- 
ing his kindly look, said : 

“ My dear M. Castilian, pardon me for not having 
received you at first with all the warmth you merit ; 
but Cyrano has probably told you that in this matter 
mistrust must be our first rule of conduct. But I did 
not know you, and . . .” 

“And,” interrupted Ben-Joël, impudently, seizing 
upon the foreknown objection, “ you thought for an 
instant that I could not be I.” 

“ Precisely.” 

“Fortunately,” continued the bandit, with admi- 
rable sang-froid , “ fortunately my journey was accom- 
plished without any obstacles. No one suspected that 
I was carrying a valuable message, and those who 
wished to injure my master had not keen enough 
scent to track me.” 

“ I know you to be a man of experience, my dear 
Castilian,” said the curé, who was becoming more 
familiar every minute. “ But, pardon me, I forgot to 
offer you some supper. You must be hungry, I fancy. 
Sit down there ; although my fare is simple when I 
expect no guest, Jeanne will do all she can to provide 
you with the best she can prepare.” 


288 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ I am not difficult to please, sir. Moreover, you 
know that our time is limited, and, while eating, I 
must ask you to be kind enough to enlighten me with 
regard to your plans ! ” 

“ My plans ! You know what Bergerac has written 
me.” 

“ Undoubtedly. He wishes you to join him at Co- 
lignac, with me, to deliver over to him the document 
he confided to you to guard. I would simply like to 
know if you are ready to accompany me to-morrow 
morning.” 

“ To-morrow,” cried the curé, “ you cannot think 
that. Can I leave my parishioners thus ? Besides,” 
he continued, having run through the letter again, 
while Ben- Joël set to work on the supper, promptly 
served by Jeanne, “according to Cyrano, he should 
have left Paris four days after you. It is useless for 
us to reach Colignac before him ; it will do if we ar- 
rive there at the same time he does, that will give us 
a two days’ respite, during which you can rest.” 

That arrangement pleased the Bohemian little. 

He feared he might be stopped at any moment in 
the execution of his projects ; he was in haste to com- 
plete them. 

However, he could not help replying : 

“ As you like, sir ; I am subject entirely to your 
orders.” 

While speaking thus, Ben- Joël, we can guess, hoped 
for an opportunity of finding a means of cutting short 
his stay, by gaining possession, by strategy or by 
force, of Count de Lembrat’s document, whose real 
importance he took good care not to reveal to his host. 

At the very time when the curé and the traveler 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 280 

were chatting in a friendly manner of the affairs of 
the morrow, the true Castilian arrived in his turn at 
Saint-Sernin. 

Before continuing, we must explain in what manner 
he reached there, and for that we must trace back the 
course of events. 

Ho incident worth the trouble of being noted signal- 
ized Castilian’s journey to Fontaines, where he ar- 
rived as ashamed of himself, as furious at his defeat, 
as eager in his pursuit of Ben- Joël as he had been at 
the very first. 

There a surprise awaited him. 

When, at dusk, he entered the only street of the 
village of Fontaines, a form came from out the shadow 
of a wall and approached him. 

The secretary saw that personage to be a young 
peasant, whose long hair, surmounted by a hat full of 
holes, fell upon a smock-frock of brown linen. 

“ Ha ! child, what do you want ? ” he asked, as the 
boy seized his horse’s bridle. 

“ To conduct you to the inn, sir,” said the peasant, 
“ if you wish it.” 

The sound of his guide’s voice made Castilian start 
involuntarily. 

He seemed to recognize that voice, although it was 
strangely disguised. 

“You are very kind,” he replied. “Conduct me 
then, since you are here.” 

The boy walked before the horseman and stopped, 
after having gone a short distance, at the door of a 
stable. 

“Jean,” he then called, “bring a lantern and take 
this gentleman’s horse.” 


290 


Captain Satan, or, 

When the groom, thus summoned, arrived, Castilian 
took the lantern in order to turn its light upon his 
guide’s face. 

But the boy had disappeared. 

“ I am mad,” thought Castilian. 

Then he asked the groom : 

“ Can I get supper here ? ” 

“Your supper is ready, sir,” replied the man. 

“ My supper . . . is . . . ready ! ” repeated 

the clerk, in astonishment. 

“ Surely ! since they have been expecting you since 
this morning.” 

“ The devil ! ” thought Castilian, “ the matter is be- 
coming more complicated. Bah ! we will see ! I have 
nothing more to lose now.” 

Instinctively he passed through a small door 
through which a ray of light shone into the stable. 

“It is there,” said Jean, who followed him, point- 
ing out to him a room opening on the one he had just 
entered. 

“ Thank you,” said Castilian, who had made up his 
mind to be surprised at nothing. 

He pushed open the door which separated him from 
the room in which his meal was so opportunely served. 

A table was set in that room. 

At the table stood the little peasant whose voice had 
so abruptly awakened Castilian’s memories. 

Scarcely had he looked at him than a vivid flush 
dyed his cheeks. 

He felt angry. 

“ Marotte ! ah ! thrice wicked woman ! ” he cried, 
rushing toward the gypsy, whom he had at one recog- 
nized beneath her disguise. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 291 

Marotte remained motionless, awaiting the effects 
of that first explosion. 

She was very pale, and her eyes were downcast be- 
fore Castilian’s angry ones. 

The secretary sought the hilt of his sword, then 
suddenly changing his mind, he seized the dancer’s 
arm, and shook her roughly : 

“ Where is my letter ? Wretch, where is it ? ” he cried. 
“ Have you not betrayed me villainousty enough, is it 
but to laugh at me that you have brought me here ? ” 

Marotte looked fixedly at the clerk, and in a voice, 
trembling with emotion, said : 

“ M. Castilian, you can kill me, you have the right 
to do so. I committed a cowardly act, what would 
you have ? We were never taught to distinguish good 
from evil. My repentance has come too late to save 
you, but soon enough for me to be useful to you and 
to help you to regain your rights. Do you want me 
for your aid ? Accept, I pledge you my word you will 
not regret it.” 

Castilian looked at the strange girl mistrustfully. 

“ Hum ! ” said he, “those are fine words.” 

“You do not believe them,” said Marotte. “You 
are mistaken.” 

And resuming the playful tone natural to her, she 
added : 

“My brave cavalier, one word will remove your 
scruples. I do not know what they want of you, 
Ben- Joël is far away, and, had I willed it so, you 
would never have met me again. So give me your 
hand and let us sup. I will then tell you what I can 
do for you.” 

A charming glance accompanied those words. 


m 


Captain Satan, or, 

But Castilian no longer thought of love. He was 
in haste to reach Saint-Sernin and to take his revenge 
for his misadventure. 

“ You are a sorceress, I believe,” he ventured, a smile 
playing about his lips; “you arrange things in your 
fashion, and one has only to say yes. But, remember, 
this time I shall not allow myself to be put to sleep by 
your diabolical airs.” 

Then Sulpice took the hand which Marotte extended 
to him and pressed it gently. 

Peace was made, with due circumspection, at least. 

Toward the middle of the frugal meal, Castilian, 
who had not ceased thinking of the strangeness of his 
adventure, suddenly asked Marotte : 

“ How does it happen that your plans with regard 
to me have changed thus? We parted, you know 
how, and here I find you ready to play the rôle of a 
good fairy.” 

“ Do I know ? ” smiled Marotte. “ Can one explain 
those things to oneself ? The first time I saw you, 
you were, my faith, very indifferent to me ; then I 
consented to deceive you ; then again, I reflected, I 
thought of you, of your loyal sincerity, of your words, 
of your glances ; finally, I found that I had changed ; 
there was within me something that was no longer I. 
I did not recognize the Marotte of formerly. I longed 
to see you again, to serve you, to make you forget 
what I had been, by showing you what I could be. 
You see all that cannot be reasoned out. It matters 
little, provided that it is so. We two, I swear to you, 
will play master Ben- Joël a trick. Take me for your 
dog, for your slave. I have courage and skill ; I wish 
to go to Saint-Sernin with you.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 293 

That womanish eloquence, increased by the charm 
of the girl’s glance, by the sweetness of her voice, 
moved Master Castilian strangely. 

44 There is good in you,” he confessed, 44 although 
the affair at Bomorantin seems very difficult for me to 
forget ! But you may go with me ; two heads are bet- 
ter than one in difficult cases, and I believe you capa- 
ble of giving Satan himself trouble.” 

Thus it was that Marotte, in the guise of a young 
peasant boy, resumed her seat near Castilian on the 
horse, which had borne her from Orléans to Bomoran- 
tin, and thus the couple arrived at Saint-Sernin a few 
hours after Ben- Joël. 

44 Now, the question is,” said Castilian to his ally, 
when they were in the heart of the village, 44 the ques- 
tion is to find the parsonage, the curé and the scoun- 
drel who stole from me my letter and my name.” 

44 Common-sense must tell you that the parsonage 
must be next the church, and we are now quite near 
the belfry. Moreover, I am familiar with Saint-Ser- 
nin ; let me guide you.” 

44 You are familiar with everything ! ” 

44 Not exactly; but I am familiar with Saint-Sernin, 
that is all that is necessary.” 

44 Come along ! ” 

44 You are hasty. Do you intend to enter the curé’s 
house thus ? ” 

44 Certainly ! ” 

44 What imprudence! You would have to stand a 
comparison. Ben- Joël would protest against }^ou, and 
the curé probably would put you out of the door, for 
Ben- Joël has the advantage of having come before you.” 

44 What is to be done ? ” 


294 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Do not show yourself, and, before attacking the 
enemy, watch his manœuvres.” 

“Watch,” grumbled Sulpice ; “it is all very well to 
talk. But how can we watch ? This square is as dark 
as a kiln.” 

1 “ That lighted window down yonder, at the end of 

the square ? ” 

“Well, that window ? ” 

“Is in the vicarage. Your man is there, M. Cas- 
tilian.” 

“ That may be.” 

“ You must know what he is doing there.” 

“You see, you are veering round to my plan. We 
must enter the cure’s house.” 

“No! But, come.” 

The horse was tied to a tree on a patch of grass as 
thick as velvet, which offered him a litter and prov- 
ender for the night, and the two allies turned their 
steps toward the corner of the square where was the 
lighted vicarage window, which was not more than 
eight feet from the ground. 

“ Brace yourself against the wall,” whispered 
Marotte, “ and lend me your back, if you please.” 

Castilian put his two hands on the wall and docilely 
offered his back to the girl. 

In two bounds, the dancer was perched on the 
clerk’s shoulders. 

“ Can you see ? ” murmured the latter. 

“ Yes,” replied Marotte ; “ they are there.” 

Thus did the dancer watch Ben- Joel’s and Lon- 
guépée’s first interview. 

She could not hear the words spoken by the cure 
and his guest; but by their attitudes, by their 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 295 

gestures, by the expression of their faces, she could 
tell that the most perfect harmony reigned between 
them, and that the Bohemian had been accepted as 
Cyrano’s real messenger. 

She had then been right in advising Castilian to be 
prudent. 

A conflict between Ben- Joël and the clerk might 
indeed destroy all the cure’s confidence and determine 
him to expel the two competitors. 

It was necessary to proceed with a certain amount 
of discretion; Castilian realized that at once, when 
Marotte, having come down from her post of observa- 
tion, told him of the scene she had just witnessed. 

“ How,” said she, “ the thing to do is to arrange a 
secret interview with the curé for to-morrow morning. 
That seems difficult to me, for in a village no one can 
remain unknown for an hour.” 

Castilian made no reply. But a plan was being 
formed in his mind. 

“ Listen,” said he at length. “ I know you well 
enough not to doubt you any longer, and I can plainly 
see that you are ready to serve me blindly ; as for you, 
I do not believe that you think me altogether a fool, 
although at Romorantin . . . But, let us omit 

that reminiscence. You are forgiven. Well, my dear, 
I am about to ask a great favor of you.” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ I will take care of Ben- Joël and the curé. Before 
to-morrow dawns, I shall have found the expedient we 
are looking for. But as unforeseen difficulties may 
arise, as, in fact, the matter may take an embarrassing 
turn, the wisest thing to do will be to summon my 
master to my aid.” 


296 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Your master ? ” 

“ M. Cyrano de Bergerac. He will be able to disen- 
tangle the knot of this intrigue, if I am not sufficiently 
skilful to do so myself.” 

“ From all you have told me, M. de Cyrano must be 
in Paris.” 

“Your memory is at fault. According to my 
calculations, my master must be very near Colignac, 
if he is not there by this time.” 

“ And you wish ? ” 

“ I wish you to leave for Colignac, after dawn, and 
to bring back my brave patron to me.” 

“ Will he have confidence in me ? ” 

“ A note, which I will give you, will remove all his 
doubts. Can you ride ? ” 

“ Like an Amazon.” 

“ Good. You may take my horse, which I do not 
need here. I will undertake to assure the situation by 
your return. But tell M. de Bergerac to come with- 
out delay, and relate to him all that has occurred.” 

“ Even that which concerns me ? ” 

“ Even that. He has a kind heart ; he will be pleased 
with you for your frankness.” 

“ Is he gallant, M. Castilian ? ” 

“ Such questions are prohibited, Mademoiselle Ma- 
rotte,” said the clerk. 

“ You are not jealous, I hope ? ” 

“ Hm ! those women ! In short, at present there is 
no question either of love, or of jealousy. We have 
other cares.” 

“I will set out, then, my lord and master,” said 
Marotte, with remarkable submission. 

“You will leave at daybreak.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 297 

“Why? Do you think I fear screech-owls ? We 
must save time, and the three hours of night still left 
to us will give me a start of several leagues. Write 
your note.” 

“ I cannot see at all here.” 

“Wait.” 

Marotte drew from her pocket a tiny dark lantern, 
furnished with a steel for striking a light, and pro- 
cured for Castilian sufficient light to write several 
lines on a page torn from his tablets. 

“ You are surely a valuable woman,” said he to the 
danseuse , as he wrote, “ and it was very fortunate that 
I met you again.” 

“ A truce to compliments, and adieu.” 

Castilian planted two kisses on Marotte’s dusky 
cheeks, and the dancer, whose male attire left her 
limbs free, leaped into the saddle with the agility of a 
professional equerry. 

“ You did not boast,” remarked the clerk. “ You 
are a veritable Amazon.” 

At the same time he untied the horse and gave the 
reins to Marotte. 

“ Be prudent,” she murmured, with a wave of fare- 
well. 

“ Be prompt,” replied the clerk. 

The horse, to whom the girl gave the spurs, set off, 
as swift as the wind. 

When Castilian could no longer hear the sound of 
his hoofs on the dusty road, he stretched himself at 
the base of the tree and watched until day began to 
break, not wishing to lose sight of the cure’s house, 
for he was anxious to be sure of Ben- Joel’s presence 
at the vicarage. 


298 


Captain Satan, or, 


XXXI. 

The sun had not yet appeared on the horizon, when, 
through the morning mist, Castilian saw a man hurry- 
ing toward the little church of Saint-Sernin. 

That man was the sacristan. 

He was about to open the doors of the sanctuary 
and to get everything ready for the daily service, for, 
during the week, it was Jacques Longuépêe’s practice 
to celebrate mass at a very early hour. 

“ I am fortunate,” thought Castilian. a There is a 
very natural means of having a discreet interview 
with the curé. I will confess to him, and, if I am not 
mistaken, my confession will interest him more than 
if I had confessed a half-dozen mortal sins.” 

The inhabitants had not yet left their houses. Cas- 
tilian could enter the church without being seen. It 
was still so dark within the chapel, that had it not 
been for the light coming from the vestry, the clerk 
would have difficulty in getting about. 

He kneeled at the choir-screen, and when the sac- 
ristan came to place the vases and the missals on the 
altar, Castilian emerged so unexpectedly from out the 
shadow, that the poor man uttered a cry of terror. 

“ Ho not be afraid,” said Castilian to him in a low 
voice. “ Ho not be afraid, my friend. I am a poor 
traveler, and desire that after mass, your worthy 
pastor receive me at the stool of penitence.” 

How could one fear a man who put forth such a 
plea? 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 299 

The sacristan, quickly reassured, pointed out a very 
dark corner to the stranger, saying : 

“ The confessional is there, my dear sir. In a little 
while, M. Jacques will join you. To-day is not the 
day for high mass.” 

“ Thank you, my friend, pray for me.” 

As he uttered those words, Castilian sought the 
sacristan’s hand into which he slipped a piece of 
silver. 

“For the poor,” he added, turning toward the con- 
fessional, where he settled himself, apparently buried 
deep in religious meditation. 

The sound of footsteps and the murmur of voices 
soon informed him that the curé had arrived. 

J acques, indeed, had begun mass. 

He had left Ben- Joël at the vicarage, still sound 
asleep ; but his confidence, great as it was in the mes- 
senger, had not prevented him from carefully locking 
the door of his room, in which for two years he had 
kept Cyrano’s mysterious document. 

When, mass concluded, Jacques returned to the 
vestry, his assistant said to him : 

“ Some one is awaiting you at the confessional, sir.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Jacques, “ one of my parishioners 
must have committed some great fault, that he takes 
such an early hour to come to accuse himself.” 

“ The man waiting there is a stranger, sir.” 

“ I will go to him. But who can the penitent be ? 
Ho one came to Saint-Sernin last night, excepting 
Sulpice Castilian, my dear Savinien’s secretary.” 

“ I do not know. The man who asked for you did 
not let me see his face, and his voice is not familiar to 


me. 


300 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Yery well. Give me my surplice. This good 
Christian must not be kept waiting.” 

And the corpulent curé, whose footsteps resounded 
on the marble floor, seated himself in his confessional, 
having first cast a hasty glance at him who was await- 
ing him. 

While waiting for the grating which separated him 
from his judge, to open, Castilian heaved a sigh of 
satisfaction. 

“ At last ! ” said he, almost aloud. 

“ What did you say, my son ? ” inquired the curé, 
surprised at the exclamation. “ Commence, if you 
please, the prayers of penitence.” 

“Father, excuse me ; the confession what I have to 
make to you is not of a purely religious character. It 
concerns worldly interests, and, if I have taken the 
liberty of calling you hither, it was because it was im- 
portant that no one should suspect the real subject of 
our conversation.” 

Longuépée, more and more perplexed by that pre- 
amble, deeming it proper to present an objection and, 
laying aside the paternal form of address used by the 
confessor, replied : 

“Sir, it would have been easy for you to have 
■spoken to me at home without fearing any indiscre- 
tion.” 

“ It was just to your house that I did not wish to go, 
without having told you my little story. Therefore, 
let us remain where we are.” 

“Yery well, sir. I am listening.” 

“ The first of my confessions will consist in telling 
you my name. And that name, sir, will not be the 
least of your surprises, It is Sulpice Castilian.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 301 

The curé started. 

“You will say to me, father,” continued the clerk, 
not allowing Jacques time for astonishment, “that 
you have already one Sulpice Castilian at you vicarage. 
Which is the real one ? He or I ? It is to permit 
you to solve that delicate question that I am here, and 
if you will kindly listen to me, I will not be long in re- 
moving the doubt into which I have just plunged you.” 

Then Castilian related the adventures of which he 
had been the hero since his departure from Paris, 
without omitting the episode with Marotte. 

“ Sir,” said Longuépée, having listened attentively 
to the confession, “ it may be that all this is perfectly 
true ; however, I can decide nothing in the absence of 
a material proof.” 

“ My God, sir, I am not unaware of the difficulty 
of my position, and I willingly consent not to be taken 
for myself yet, since my usurper has been skilful 
enough to win your confidence. Permit me only to 
ask one favor of you.” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ According to my master’s orders, you are to meet 
him at Colignac.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“Well, give up that project; await M. de Bergerac 
at your house.” 

“ What are you proposing to me ? ” 

“I propose to you a very prudent thing. Who 
knows if, when you are on the way with the man 
whom you persist in considering the real Castilian, he 
will not profit by your isolation to assassinate you and 
to gain possession of the document of which you have 
the care.” 


302 


Captain Satan, or, 

“That is going quite far in your suppositions. I 
am not a child, and I know how to defend myself, my 
friend.” 

“ Undoubtedly ; but remember that this Bohemian 
has accomplices, and that, being strong against him, 
you would be powerless against a band of rascals. In 
short, sir,” continued Castilian, peremptorily, “you 
must remain, for the reason that I have sent word to 
my master to hasten to Saint-Sernin.” 

“You have done that ? ” 

“ This very morning, and through the medium of 
that very Marotte, who was the prime cause of my 
misadventure.” 

“ Ah ! sir, if you speak the truth, you have placed 
in very unsafe hands the welfare of the situation.” 

“ Do not fear ; I will answer for her now. Another 
word, sir. Have you a little confidence in me ? ” 

“Your tone of sincerity touches me,” replied Lon- 
guépée. “ However, I have already told you, I have 
not yet sufficient reason to look upon my guest as an 
impostor.” 

“ Yery well. You may expect a revelation; it will 
not be long in coming. I suppose it is agreed that 
what I have just told you will remain a secret between 
us two ? ” 

“ Did you not tell me it was a confession ? ” 

“ Truly ; I am satisfied. There remains for me to 
make one last suggestion.” 

“ Make it.” 

“ I would beg of you to tell your guest, on your re- 
turn home, that you no longer think of setting out, 
having heard the news of the early arrival of your 
friend, Cyrano. You will see the effect of those 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 303 

words. Indeed, I would ask you to be very careful, 
for it is probable that Ben- Joël may take into his 
head to wrest from you, by strategy or by force, the 
document entrusted to } r ou.” 

“ I will do as you desire. The whole adventure 
troubles me, and I feel that the slightest of my acts 
should be attended by prudence.” 

“ That is well said, sir. If you happen to have an 
old sword in the parsonage, keep it within reach ; if, 
which is still better, you possess a couple of pistols, 
put in them two good leaden bullets and a reasonable 
amount of powder. It may all be useful to you at 
any moment. How that you have been duly fore- 
warned, I will leave to you together with my master 
the responsibility of the issue.” 

Sulpice rose to retire. 

At the same time Jacques left the confessional, and, 
seizing his interlocutor’s arm, he led Castilian into the 
light, and looked keenly at him : 

“ You have the appearance of an honest man, my 
friend,” said he. “Will you pledge me your word 
that Cyrano has been warned of what is going 
on ?’’ 

“ On my honor, I swear to you that my messenger 
set out before daybreak,” replied Castilian. 

“ Good ! what shall you do now ? ” 

“Wait.” 

“ Have you engaged a lodging at some inn ? ” 

“ Ho ! I do not desire to be seen ; I shall find some 
post of observation in the vicinity of the vicarage.” 

“You would soon be discovered. Listen, I do not 
wish to neglect anything that might be useful in the 
present case, and there is much good in what you have 


304 


Captain Satan, 01 s , 

told me. So, steal behind the vicarage, push open a 
little gate which opens into the fields ; you will find 
yourself in front of a stable belonging to me. In the 
stable is a ladder which leads up to a small loft : take 
refuge there ; I will bring you food myself and will 
keep you informed as to what is going on. Do you 
agree to that ? ” 

“I do ; I believe that we understand each other. 
Will you tell Ben-Joël what I advised you to ?” 

“ I promise you to do so.” 

“ Ah ! thank you, sir ; let us go now ; I fear noth- 
ing more.” 

“ Let me go out first ; but be at your post in less 
than two minutes.” 

Castilian obeyed the cure’s instructions to the letter. 
He awaited a favorable moment in order to cross the 
small square without being seen, and found the hiding- 
place of which Longuépée had spoken to him without 
difficulty. 

He had been there barely five minutes, when the 
curé appeared, carrying some bread, some wine and 
some other food. 

“My man is still asleep,” said Jacques; “I took ad- 
vantage of that to bring you some breakfast, sir. 
. . . What shall I call you ? ” 

“ Zounds ! call me Castilian, since that is my name.” 

“ But the other ? ” 

“ The other ? Call him ‘ knave.’ He deserves noth- 
ing better.” 

“Let us keep from rash judgment,” murmured 
Jacques. “ Yery soon, I shall be better enlightened.” 

And leaving his penitent to eat the breakfast he 
had brought him, Jacques went from the stable to the 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 305 

vicarage which was reached through a tiny courtyard 
peopled with chickens and ducks. 

Ben-Joel had risen and was awaiting the curé in the 
dining-room. 

“ Did you sleep well ? ” asked the priest, kindly. 

“ Y ery well. I thought it necessary to prepare for 
the fatigue and the lack of sleep attendant on our ap- 
proaching journey.” 

The cure replied good-naturedly, watching the 
stranger’s face carefully as he spoke : 

“You did right, my dear Castilian; you can rest 
to-morrow and the following days, if you like, for we 
will not go to Colignac.” 

“We will not go to Colignac ! ” exclaimed Ben-Joël. 
“ And why not, sir ? ” 

“Because my friend Cyrano sent me word this 
morning that he might reach Saint-Sernin at any 
minute.” 

A ghastly pallor overspread Ben- Joel’s face, and his 
voice seemed to die away in his throat. 

The curé, who was looking at him, saw his transient 
annoyance. But the Bohemian, feeling the priest’s 
sharp eyes upon him, quickly controlled himself, and, 
smiling, with the most natural manner in the world, 
he made answer : 

u My faith, sir, I could not have had any news to 
surprise me more agreeably on rising ! my master is 
coming! Well! Truly, I am delighted, for it is a 
proof that he is better. You know that I left him 
quite ill in Paris.” 

“ I know that,” said the curé, surprised at the turn 
affairs had taken, and, at the same time, greatly per- 
plexed with regard to the suspicions suggested to him 


306 


Captain Satan, or, 

by the real Castilian ; — “ I know that, and I can see 
by your delight that you are deeply attached to your 
master.” 

“ I love him like a father!” exclaimed Ben- Joël, 
trying to squeeze a tear of emotion out of the corner 
of his eye. 

The curé outstretched his hand, saying to himself : 

“ Which of these men is deceiving me ? ” 

“To-night, my good man,” thought Ben- Joël, “I 
shall be on the way to Paris, and I shall have the de 
Lembrat document. Then let Captain Satan come, I 
will laugh him to scorn.” 

Thus the day ended. 

Jacques, faithful to his promise, went to give an 
account to Castilian of the impression produced on 
Ben- Joël by the announcement of Savinien’s arrival. 

“ That man is very shrewd,” said Sulpice ; “ he re- 
plied naturally ; I almost expected it. In his position 
one has to anticipate everything. Wait until night, 
sir, wait until night.” 

Ben- Joël, it will be easily seen, had, after the first 
threat of Bergerac’s arrival, concocted a plan for the 
night that was to come. 

He did not leave the vicarage all day, and posted 
himself carefully as to the interior of the house. 

On entering the cure’s room, in which Longuêpée 
had spent part of the afternoon, Ben- J oël’s lynx-like 
eyes were at once attracted by the oaken cupboard in 
the wall at the head of the bed. 

“ It is there ! ” said the Bohemian, instinctively to 
himself. 

From that moment, his plans were made. They 
were simply to take advantage of the cure’s short ab- 


The Adventures of Cyrano cle Bergerac. 307 

sence to pick the lock of the cupboard, or, if that op- 
portunity should not present itself, to enter the room 
during the night, to stab Jacques and to gain posses- 
sion of the valuable papers. 

Ben- Joël was not the man to draw back. His plan 
conceived, he thought of nothing else but of carrying 
it out under the best conditions possible. 

At supper, the curé, who had also thought over the 
events of the day and who had, like Ben- Joël, made 
out his little programme, said to his guest carelessly : 

“ Friend Castilian, if you will permit, we will not 
stay up very late to-night. It is necessary for me to 
be at the church after daybreak ; but that, I hope, will 
not prevent you from sleeping.” 

“Very well, sir,” smiled the adventurer. “If you 
wish to retire, do not mind your humble servant at 
all.” 

“ Ah ! I am not in such great haste that I cannot 
offer you, before retiring, a glass of our Saint-Sernin 
brandy. It is not as good as the Cognac, but you 
know the proverb : ‘For want of thrushes. . . 

“ One catches blackbirds,” completed Ben- Joël, gaily. 

Having drunk to his guest’s health, the curé retired, 
leaving him to his servant’s care. 

When he deemed the priest sound asleep, the Bohe- 
mian took a candle and in his turn sought his room. 

On passing the curé’s apartment, he noticed that the 
key was no longer in the door. 

Cautiously, he pressed his finger on the latch, raised 
it and tried to push the panel. 

The door resisted. 

It was bolted on the inside. 

“ The devil ! ” said the bandit, “ Master Jacques is 


308 


Captain Satan, or, 

prudent. I did not anticipate this. Bah ! I will wait 
until to-morrow. Bergerac cannot have made such 
speed that he could gain four days on us.” 

And he stole along the corridor, making no more 
noise than a shadow. 

Instead, however, of going to sleep immediately, 
he flung himself dressed on his bed, lying in wait and 
ready to seize a favorable opportunity. 

Howsoever great was his desire to succeed, the soli- 
tary watch was to fatally overcome our strategic 
bandit. 

Toward midnight, his eyes closed in spite of himself, 
his head fell upon his pillow, and he was sound asleep. 

The clock of Saint-Sernin was striking three when 
Ben- Joël awoke. 

He rubbed his eyes, muttering an oath. 

“ Imbecile ! ” said he, “ I have been asleep. Perhaps 
there is no longer time.” 

The window admitted into the room the first glim- 
mer of dawn. Ben- Joël rose and looked out at the 
church. 

It was still closed, and no one was to be seen on the 
square. Shortly afterward, a sound was heard in the 
direction of the cure’s chamber. 

The bandit drew a deep breath. 

The sound, at first indistinct, became more distinct, 
and Ben- Joël soon heard the street-door open and shut. 

He again ran to the window, just in time to see the 
curé cross the square and enter a lane to the left of the 
church, which he took, no doubt, in order to enter his 
vestry by the private way. 

Zilla’s brother did not lose any time in wondering. 
He felt that he must act without delay. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 809 

Consequently, he armed himself with a short iron 
crowbar and some pick-locks, took between his teeth 
his open knife and walked toward Jacques’ room. 

The door was still locked. 

To force a lock, however, was but child’s play to 
Ben- Joël. 

He operated so well, that the door opened as if, to 
obtain that effect, the Bohemian had had only to utter 
a magical word, or as if he were the owner of one of 
those “hands of glory,” before which, according to 
certain wonderful stories, gratings and the stoutest 
bolts yield. 

Once within the room, the bandit rummaged hur- 
riedly, as if to quiet his conscience, in all the drawers 
and looked on all the pieces of furniture; then he 
turned to the oaken cupboard, where was, he thought, 
the treasure so greatly desired by him. 

Having rapidly surveyed the braces, he slipped his 
crowbar under one of the panels and leaned on the 
instrument with the whole weight of his body. 

The oak cracked beneath that violent effort, but 
the iron-work resisted. 

Ben- Joël, deeply engrossed in his enterprise, was 
about to recommence his efforts, when the cure’s deep 
voice suddenly said behind him : 

“ Ha ! M. Castilian, what are you doing there, if 
you please ? ” 

The curé was standing in the centre of the room, 
erect, with folded arms. 

Those bantering words caused the Bohemian to 
start, and he turned in order to face the danger. 

Hot being able to deny the obviousness of the fact, 
he flung away his crowbar, took his knife in his hand, 


310 


Captain Satan, or, 

and, drawing himself np in front of the curé with a 
menacing air, he sneered : 

“ You have said your mass, soon, sir ; it will be so 
much worse for you.” 

“ Wretch ! ” thundered Jacques, “ are you not 
ashamed of the occupation you are pursuing ? ” 

Ben- Joël rushed forward, his dagger upraised. 

At the moment his arm was descending, the cure’s 
hand seized it on the wing and held it in a grasp that 
almost crushed the bones. 

“ Drop your weapon,” he said to him at the same 
time. 

That advice was superfluous. The assassin’s be- 
numbed fingers had already relaxed and the knife they 
held had fallen on the floor. 

Ben- Joël had no luck in his enterprises. He tried 
to speak, to humble himself, to save his skin, as he had 
not long since when he was so severely beaten by 
Cyrano on the road to Fougerolles; the curé did not 
give him time. 

“ If God had not forbidden us to shed blood,” said 
he, “ it would be well to rid the world of a creature 
like you. Thank Him for having let you fall in the 
hands of a Christian.” 

Ben- Joël, in response, turned a sudden somersault 
to free himself. 

“ Ah ! you take it thus, do you,” cried Jacques. 
“You like neither advice, nor sermons. Well, my 
knave, take yourself off elsewhere. It is fortunate for 
you that Cyrano has not arrived.” 

Speaking thus, the curé unceremoniously seized the 
Bohemian by his breeches and by the upper part of 
his doublet, then, lifting him off the floor he carried 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 311 

him leisurely toward the window which he pushed 
open with his shoulder. 

“Do not kill me, sir,” whimpered Ben- Joël in 
affright, “ do not kill me.” 

“Now, jump, nocturnal thief,” replied the cure, 
holding the Bohemian out over the casement, sus- 
pended in space. 

“ Mercy ! ” cried Ben- Joel’s suffocated voice. 

“ Jump,” repeated the curé. “ The window is seven 
feet from the ground. Are you afraid ? ” 

Ben- Joël ventured to look and saw the ground quite 
near him. 

“ Let go of me, that I may jump,” he murmured, 
humbly. 

“ You have decided ; that is fortunate. Well, a safe 
journey, my knave ; but do not try this again : another 
time you will not get off so easily.” 

Jacques’ hands opened, and the Bohemian, who, 
danger having disappeared, had regained all his sang- 
froid , fell on the grass with the elasticity of a cat. 

That done, he fled as fast as his legs would bear 
him, and not without fearing lest a bullet might hit 
him en route. 

Having done as we have seen, the curé hastened to 
the loft, where Castilian already awake, was impa- 
tiently awaiting the news of the day. 

On seeing Jacques open his arms to him, Sulpice 
guessed that something decisive had occurred. 

“ My brave boy,” said the priest, kissing his cheeks, 
“you have saved my life.” 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” cried Castilian. “ Our man. . . .” 

“ Our man ! ” interrupted the curé, “ he is far away, 
if he is still running.” 


312 Captain Satan, or, 

And, in a few words, J acques repeated to the young 
man the scene just exacted. 

“ What ! ” exclaimed Sulpice, “ have you allowed 
him to escape ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly. After being unmasked, he is no 
longer injurious.” 

“ Undeceive yourself. However, what you do is 
well done ; you cannot be blamed for your kindness 
of heart. M. de Cyrano’s arrival will put an end to 
your anxiety and will restore your tranquillity.” 

“ Amen ! ” replied the curé, with a smile. “ Come 
and take possession of a lodging more worthy of you, 
my child, my true Castilian, this time.” 

The two new friends descended together, and 
Jeanne was surprised to see another personage sit 
down to the substantial breakfast she had carefully 
prepared for the guest of the preceding day, who had 
disappeared before she could learn the reason. 

All this plunged the good woman into a reverie, 
from which the curé did not think it proper to arouse 
her on that day. 

Cyrano’s approaching arrival was the sole object of 
Jacques’ thoughts. 

He awaited his friend with childish joy, with ill- 
disguised impatience. 

He was anxious to embrace him first, and then to 
return to him the valuable document, which, for two 
years, had caused him so much anxiety. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 313 


XXXII. 

Befoke seeing what happened to Ben- Joël, as wçll 
as to Cyrano, then in the grasp of the Toulousian law, 
we must return to Zilla’s story. 

She had just discovered Count Boland’s criminal 
designs, and had gone out alone in the middle of the 
night from the House of Cyclops, a prey to a feeling 
bordering on madness. 

Where was she going ? At first she did not know 
herself. Having run to the Pont-Heuf, which she 
crossed with a rapid step, the fresh night air some- 
what abated the burning fever, that urged her on aim- 
lessly through the city ; she paused before the chât- 
elet and began to think. 

Gradually her thoughts assumed more tangible 
shape ; she threw back her head resolutely and con- 
tinued her walk with a deliberate step. 

Zilla had now a purpose. 

She walked up the right bank of the Seine, passed 
through the narrow lanes adjoining rue Saint-Paul, 
and knocked at the door of Hôtel de Lembrat. 

The master of the house had returned an hour 
since; all were asleep within the mansion, never- 
theless, she raised the wrought iron knocker and let it 
fall upon the large door. 

A noise was heard in the courtyard ; footsteps ap- 
proached, and a rough voice asked : 

“ Who knocks ?” 

“ I wish to speak to M. de Lembrat,” replied Zilla, 
impatiently. 


314 Captain Satan, or, 

“ The Count is resting ; this is not the time to see 
him.” 

“ Open the door, I tell you ; I have come on a very 
important errand.” 

“ Go along, woman ! And do not knock again, or 
I will have you arrested by the police. Did you ever 
see the like! Disturbing folks at this hour of the 
night ! ” 

With those words the inflexible porter walked off, 
his heavy steps awaking the echoes. 

The gypsy saw that another attempt would be use- 
less. Besides, she thought she need fear nothing for 
Manuel during those few hours. 

Resolved not to allow the Count a chance to escape 
her, she seated herself on the stone at the door of the 
hôtel, wrapped herself in her cape, and remained mo- 
tionless in the darkness, murmuring : 

“ I will wait.” 

That night seemed as long as a year. The damp- 
ness of the dawn made Zilla shiver ; but her head was 
burning, and that feverish ardor kept her from yield- 
ing to suffering and fatigue. 

Day broke and found her wan, but with sparkling 
eyes ; shivering, but erect and ready for the struggle. 

A vague stir round about the mansion soon an- 
nounced the reawakening of the city ; several pedes- 
trians were to be seen at the end of the street, and 
the woman heard a creaking sound that was made by 
the bolts of the grand entrance, which were slipped 
by the porter’s hand ; the two oaken doors opened, and 
Zilla could see into the court, where Count Roland’s 
servants were already moving about. 

As it was necessary to be prudent in such a situa- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 315 

tion, Zilla decided to leave her post, without losing 
sight of the door of the hôtel. 

An inn was open a short distance away; she went 
into that place to warm herself for an instant, then 
she asked for water, with which she bathed her face, 
wan from her long vigil, rearranged her garments, 
and again proceeded toward the mansion. 

The fierce porter, who a few hours before had used 
her so harshly had no doubt forgotten or taken for a 
nightmare the incident of the night, for he seemed 
neither surprised nor angry when Zilla presented her- 
self before him. 

It was not, moreover, the first time he had seen 
the young woman, and the lackeys had told him 
that the master of the house was not indifferent to 
her. 

They did not know the nature of the relations es- 
tablished between the Count and the Bohemian, but 
those relations were certain; that sufficed to spare 
Zilla a disagreeable reception. 

She addressed herself to a footman who came to 
meet her, gave her name and asked almost imperiously 
to speak to the Count. 

“ His lordship has not risen,” objected the man. 

“ Announce me,” insisted the visitor. 

“Awaken him? Oh, no, I would not dare to. 
Wait, if you like.” 

“ Very well.” 

And Zilla, at a sign from the lackey, accompanied 
him to the apartments, where she was seated in a 
spacious ante-chamber, and bidden to be patient. 

Three mortal hours passed thus. Finally, the sound 
of a well-known voice reached Zilla’s ears. 


316 Captain Satan, or, 

The Count was up and very angry, judging by the 
pitch of his voice. 

Soon afterward Roland appeared. The young 
woman did not mistrust that she was the sole cause 
of the irritation still to be read in the Count’s looks, 
the outburst of which had reached her. 

She took a step toward him and without waiting 
for him to question her she said, in a brusque tone : 

“ I wish to speak to you.” 

“ So early ? ” the Count attempted to smile. 

“ The hour does not signify. Dismiss your attend- 
ants.” 

“ You speak quite regally, my dear. What is the 
matter ? ” 

He dismissed the servants, who had followed her, 
and with an impatient air, he asked : 

“ I am in haste ; what do you want ? ” 

“I will tell you. You came to my lodgings yester- 
day, under a false pretext, and you took from me an 
object which I have come to demand back. Give it 
to me.” 

It was impossible to equivocate. Zilla’s peremp- 
tory tone did not permit Roland to doubt it. 

The Count feigned astonishment and replied : 

“ An object ? That is very vague. I only brought 
a letter written to Manuel from your lodgings. Is it 
to that letter you are alluding ? ” 

“ You know it is not ! ” 

“ Then, I do not understand you.” 

“ Let us go into your room, sir.” 

“ For what ?” 

“To obtain there the vial of poison you stole from 
me yesterday ! ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 317 

The Count started slightly, although he was pre- 
pared for such an attack. 

That start did not escape Zilla. 

“ You see,” she exclaimed, “you are not as ignorant 
as you say.” 

“ I am astonished, that is all, and if I did not be- 
lieve you mad or distraught by some inexplicable 
affection, I would receive your demands and your in- 
sults less tranquilly.” 

“ Give me what I ask of you, my lord.” 

“ You persist in that, do you ? Ah, my child,” 
smiled the Count, whose accent softened in proportion 
as the gypsy’s voice became angry, “ be kind enough 
to tell me for what I have need of poison? If I 
wanted it, besides, there is no lack of Lombard or 
Florentine druggists from whom I could buy it.” 

“ That is possible, but having found within reach of 
your hand the weapon necessary to you, you took it ; 
it was less compromising.” 

“ Come, Zilla, what is exciting you ? What do you 
think ? ” 

“ I think that you wish to rid yourself of Manuel, 
and that you made use of me for that.” 

“ I do think of Manuel ! If I wished to rid myself 
of him, as you say, I would have a thousand means 
instead of one. The first and most simple would be 
to have him sentenced, and still I proposed to you to 
get him out of prison.” 

That was said very naturally with a certain 
good-nature which for an instant shook Zilla’s con- 
victions. 

The Count remarked the effect produced by his last 
words, and a furtive smile played about his lips. 


318 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Are you convinced ?” he added, thinking to es- 
tablish his triumph. 

“ I cannot allow myself to be convinced without 
proofs.” 

“ What proofs do you require ? ” 

“ Help me to gain an entrance to the châtelet . I 
wish to speak to Manuel.” 

“ That is impossible.” 

“ In that case, give me back the letter I wrote to 
the prisoner yesterday, on your advice.” 

“ Do you then refuse to save Manuel ? ” 

“I will tell you. First, give me back my letter.” 

“ I would like to,” tranquilly replied the Count ; 
“ unfortunately, or rather . . . fortunately, — for 

I understand your interests better than you do — I have 
not it.” 

“ Where is it ? ” 

“ Manuel must have it now — I had it sent to him.” 

“ When ? ” 

“ This morning.” 

“ That is false ! ” exclaimed Zilla. “ I have spent 
the night at the door of your house, and no one 
left it.” 

The Count made a movement of anger, which he 
quickly suppressed. Care was requisite with regard 
to Zilla ; one word from her lips might, if not ruin 
him, at least compromise him gravely. 

“You are a woman,” he added, “and I pardon your 
flat contradiction. You may believe, however, Zilla, 
that nothing is truer than what I tell you. The 
future will show you that you were wrong to suspect 
me. That said, my child, I must leave you. Duty 
calls me to the Louvre.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 319 

And, waving his hand to Zilla, he passed her by and 
disappeared, leaving her speechless in the middle of 
the room. 

Almost immediately five or six servants reentered 
the ante-chamber where the scene had taken place, 
and Zilla saw that she had no business there. 

“ That man is deceiving me,” she thought, as she 
withdrew ; “ but my will shall triumph over him. 
Manuel shall be warned against his snares.” 

Zilla’s thoughts did not deceive her. Boland still 
had the letter which he pretended to have sent to 
Manuel. He did not give it to the gypsy, although it 
was of no use to him, since he had in his possession 
the poison he had gone in search of at the House of 
Cyclops, assuredly because he wished to spare Zilla, 
and to play his rôle to the end. 

The gypsy turned in the direction of the châtelet , 
with the intention of applying to M. Jean de Lamothe 
himself for permission to communicate with the pris- 
oner. 

An usher, not without some objection, showed her 
into the grand provost’s presence. 

The latter received her with a severe air. In his 
eyes, Zilla had been the accomplice of Manuel’s sup- 
posed usurpation and only owed her liberty to the 
Count’s benevolent intervention. 

He had, it is true, looked upon Ben- Joel’s and 
Zilla’s confessions as sufficient reparation for the 
wrong committed ; but that did not prevent him from 
cherishing in the depths of his heart an honest dislike 
of those culprits metamorphosed into denunciators 
and witnesses. Jean de Lamothe had been an all too 
ready dupe for Roland and his assistants, and it was 


320 Captain Satan, or, 

in entire good faith, — it is well to repeat that, — that 
he devoted his time and his intellect to the direction 
of Manuel’s trial. 

Zilla was not in the least embarrassed by the 
grand provost’s reception, her love for Manuel being 
prepared for all sacrifices as well as for all humiliation. 

She approached the immense table laden with 
bundles of papers and bags behind which Jean de 
Lamothe was enthroned, and, in a slow and composed 
voice, she asked : 

“ Do you know me, sir ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly. Have you come to inform me of 
some new fact ? ” 

“ Ho ! I have come to ask a favor of you.” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ Permission to see Manuel.” 

“ Aha ! ” cried the magistrate, “ to see Manuel ! You 
cannot think of that, my girl ! ” 

“ You have the power to grant me that favor.” 

“ Yes, but you have not the right to ask it.” 

Zilla threw back her head. 

“ And why not ? ” she asked, with a sense of rebel- 
lion. 

“ You are very curious. Must I tell you that I am 
not sure of your return to a good life, and that I do 
not wish to furnish you with an opportunity to talk 
with Manuel ? ” 

“ What can I do that would be so terrible ? ” 

“ Do I know ? Go, my girl, go and sin no more.” 

“ Sir, I implore you. Manuel’s life perhaps depends 
upon it ! Let me see him.” 

“ You are wasting your time.” 

“ Let me write to him at least.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 321 

“ Enough of this. I am busy. Your tears will not 
move me. When I have said no, it is no. You may 
be sure of that.” 

“ If I were to tell you,” cried Zilla, in her excite- 
ment, “ if I were to tell you, sir provost, that you have 
been deceived, that . . .” 

The provost rang a bell. 

A bailiff appeared, M. Jean pointed to Zilla: 

“ If this woman comes here again,” he said, “ I for- 
bid you to allow her to enter.” 

Having said those words, he rose, repeating the 
scene just enacted fifteen minutes before at Hôtel de 
Lembrat ; he pushed open a door at the end of the 
room and disappeared. 

Zilla uttered an exclamation of anger. She was 
about to confess all, and they would no longer believe 
her, they would not even listen to her. 

The hope she had cherished on presenting herself at 
the house of the Count and at that of the provost 
vanished forever. 

Ben- Joel’s sister could rely only on her own 
strength. 

At this moment she suffered a terrible hallucina- 
tion. 

She saw Manuel writhing on the floor of his cell. 
He had drunk the poison poured out by a hand hired 
by the Count, and he was dying, cursing Zilla. 

“ Ho, it shall not- be,” she cried, “ I will not have it 
so ; I will prevent it.” 

And, wondering what she should do to dispel the 
danger she felt to be near, she reached the foot of the 
grand provost’s staircase, which she had ascended a 
few moments before almost certain of success. 


322 Captain Satan, or, 

She had only several steps to take to reach the door 
of the prison. 

The constables of the provostship did not fail to 
greet her, as she passed, with many gallant remarks ; 
but she cast upon them a glance at once so haughty 
and so sad, that not one ventured to address her again. 

For an instant she paused thoughtfully before that 
inexorable door, which one word from M. Jean would 
have opened wide, and there a mad plan occurred to 
her. 

“ I will offer myself as a servant to the jailer ! ” she 
thought. 

A bitter smile curled her lips. She saw the folly of 
that inspiration. 

A better plan must be found. Then, although her 
heart was heavy, the gypsy drew up her supple form, 
feigned a gaiety she did not feel and, walking up to a 
group of idlers at some distance off, whose attention 
she had attracted quite a while before, she began to 
sing a merry chanson. 

In a trice she was surrounded. The constables 
came one by one to join the curious ; after them came 
two or three servants from the jail, toward whom 
Zilla’s attention was more particularly directed. One 
of them was very young, and undoubtedly the trade 
he was plying was new to him, for he had a face as 
frank and bright as could possibly be imagined. 

The heavy prison atmosphere had not yet clouded 
his brow, the sight of human suffering had not yet 
dulled the brightness of his eyes. 

Insensibly, Zilla drew near him. A sort of intui- 
tion told her that she was about to find an excuse near 
that boy. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 323 

She ceased her song and took the hand of one of the 
constables, saying as she did so : 

“ Bo you wish to know your future ? I will read 
it in the lines of your hand.” 

The constable drew back his hand, somewhat 
frightened at the sudden proposition. A mocking 
sneer ran through the crowd. 

“ He is afraid ! ” said one voice. 

Zilla did not insist. She looked inquiringly at those 
assembled, and ten hands were held out to her at 
once. 

For some time she played the rôle of a fortune-teller, 
to which she had been accustomed from childhood, 
and as the young man whom she had singled out 
seemed to hesitate to ask her to cast his horoscope, 
she smiled at him, and beckoned him to approach. 

He quickly obeyed that encouragement and offered 
his open hand to her. Zilla rested her finger on the 
line of life, and her fascinating eyes sought those of 
the youth. 

“Happy boy,” said she then, “he loves . . . 

and he is beloved.” 

That revelation, easy to make , when he who con- 
sults the oracle is a handsome youth of barely twenty 
years, caused a deep flush to mount to the boy’s brow. 

“ And, . . . ” he murmured, “ do you know . 

. . ?” 

He did not finish his question. He feared he might 
say too much perhaps and wished to leave it to Zilla 
to relate herself all the secrets of his heart. 

“ Come,” said the fortune-teller, “ what I have to 
reveal to you, must be heard by you alone.” 


324 


Captain Satan, or, 


XXXIII. 

The crowd made way for the gypsy. 

She did not relinquish the hand of the youth, whom 
she drew aside. 

“ What is your name ? ” she then inquired. 

“ Johann Müller,” he replied. 

“ Listen to me,” said Zilla ; “ you are young, you are 
in love, and I can see by your expression that you 
would easily sympathize with the misfortune of 
others.” 

“ Why do you say this to me ? ” murmured Johann, 
surprised at the tone in which those words were ut- 
tered. 

“ Because I have need of you, and because from the 
first moment I saw that you would not repulse my 
prayer.” 

“ To her who guessed so quickly that I loved, and 
who predicted my happiness, I can refuse nothing if 
what she asks is possible to me.” 

“ Thank you, child,” said Zilla. 

And her hand pressed that of the young man more 
firmly, while her eyes, full of gratitude, were fixed 
upon his. 

“ You see that tomb,” she continued, pointing with a 
melancholy gesture to the high walls of the châtelet ; 
“ it confines the best part of my heart, for I also love, 
and he whom I love is perhaps about to die there.” 

With her admirable feminine instinct, Zilla had 
divined that sentiment would have more effect on 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 325 

Johann’s honest and generous soul betrayed by his 
glance, than vulgar bribery. 

She might have offered him gold ; she preferred to 
cast herself on the }^outh’s kindly instincts, to make 
him the confidant of her sorrow, to interest him in her 
hopes, and to cause to vibrate within him chords more 
delicate than those of personal interest. 

He looked at her with surprise, but without being 
startled by that beginning, which, however, made him 
feel that Zilla was about to ask something compromis- 
ing of him, or at least something dangerous to his 
peace. 

The gypsy’s face breathed of a hope so fervent, that 
he had not the courage to enforce silence upon her nor 
to abandon her. 

“ Of whom do you wish to speak ? ” he ventured to 
ask, having glanced furtively around him to assure 
himself that no one was within hearing. 

“ You have heard speak, no doubt, of a young man 
whom they accuse of having usurped the title and 
name of another ? ” 

“Is not his name Manuel?” interrupted Johann. 

“ It is ! Do you know him ? ” 

“ As well as one can know a prisoner, seen by the 
light of a lantern, in the shadowy darkness of a cell.” 

“ Poor Manuel! He suffers a great deal, does he 
not ? ” 

“ If he suffers, he, at least, does not complain. 

“ But excuse me,” added Johann, immediately, “ it is 
time to enter the châtelet again, and if it is in this 
Manuel whom you are interested, I have told you all 
I know of him.” 

At the same time, he took from his pocket a small 


326 Captain Satan, or, 

piece of silver and tried to slip it into the gypsy’s 
hand. 

Zilla refused it gently. 

“ One moment,” she said, “ I have not told you all. 
And if you have nothing more to tell me, I have still 
one great favor to ask of you.” 

“ I have told you that I shall be happy to oblige you. 
Speak quickly, for if the jailer should see me dallying 
thus with you, I should certainly be punished.” 

“N o ! God will protect you, for you are good. 
This Manuel, whom you know and whom I love, is 
threatened by a great danger, Johann. He has power- 
ful enemies. Try to remember : has nothing strange 
happened with regard to him ?” 

“ Since when ? ” 

“ Since he has been at the châtelet? Since this 
morning, especially.” 

“ Ho, with the exception of the visits made him by 
M. J ean de Lamothe to examine him, and those of a 
gentleman who has obtained permission to speak with 
him, I have seen nothing worth noting.” 

“ And . . . was that gentleman here last 
night ? ” 

« Ho ! ” 

Zilla breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Wait,” said Johann, reconsidering his last reply, 
“when I said that the provost and that gentleman 
alone had seen the prisoner, I made a mistake. . . .” 

“ What happened ? ” queried the fortune-teller, 
feverishly. 

“A man was just at the châtelet , a valet, I 
think. . . .” 

“ What was that man’s object ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 327 

“ He brought some provisions to the prisoner. . . .” 

“ Provisions ! ” cried Zilla, very pale. 

“ Yes. Some kind soul has been touched no doubt 
by Manuel’s distress, and knowing that the prison diet 
is hard, wishes to mitigate its severity somewhat.” 

“ Ah ! all is lost ! ” exclaimed Zilla, wringing her 
hands in despair. “ The time I spent at the grand 
provost’s sufficed for the wretch to accomplish his 
aim.” 

Johann did not understand her sudden grief. He 
tried vainly to calm Zilla. She did not hear him. 
The terrible vision she had had an hour before, again 
appeared to her, and, panting with a fixed stare, she 
yielded to it entirely. 

Finally, the sense of reality returned. 

“ Johann,” she said, “ I must save him, do you hear ? 
And in order to do so, you must help me.” 

“ What danger do you fear ? ” 

“ Manuel’s death. Child, I will be eternally grate- 
ful to you, if you can avert the peril. I will be your 
slave ; I will serve you as a dog serves its 
master. . . .” 

“What is to be done?” asked Johann, irresistibly 
attracted by Zilla’s accent. 

She took from her wrist a silver bracelet and used 
the point of a stiletto which she always carried on her 
person, to scratch on the metal some characters, the 
meaning of which Johann did not know, but which to 
Manuel, accustomed to write as well as to speak the 
Romany tongue, contained a revelation and put him 
on his guard against Roland’s criminal attempts. 

Johann, scarcely allowing Zilla time to finish, re- 
peated his question : 


328 Captain Satan, or, 

“ What is to be done ? ” 

“ Give this to the prisoner,” she said, giving him the 
bracelet, “ and do not give it to him to-morrow, not 
even this evening, but at once. 

“Alas! Is he still alive?” sighed Zilla, in her 
anguish. Johann had taken the bracelet; neverthe- 
less, he seemed to hesitate. 

“ I am afraid,” he ventured, “ that I will not be able 
to do as you ask immediately. I only go down to the 
cells at noon.” 

“ Go, go quickly, heaven will inspire you.” 

The youth prepared to depart. 

“ I will await you,” said Zilla. “ Eeturn to tell me 
all, all, do you hear, even the misfortune that I fear.” 

And, overcome by fatigue as well as emotion, she 
sank upon the flagging, while Johann hastened to re- 
turn to the jail. 

He vanished from her sight, and the fortune-teller’s 
mind began again to float in that mist of dreams which 
the agony of waiting creates, when the life of a man 
may depend upon one minute, well-employed or not 
well-employed. 

For a long time, she remained thus, caring naught 
for the looks of the passers-by. 

She saw before her only the sinister pile of the 
châtelet , outlined against the gradually darkening sky. 

Soon the outlines of the prison became confounded 
with the sky, then bright beams began to play on the 
battlements. 

It was night, and Zilla was still waiting. She 
had spent most of the day, sad and pensive, changing 
her prostrate position only by raising her head from 
time to time to see if Johann was not coming. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 329 

No one came. The night grew darker and darker ; 
curfew rang in the vicinity, and Zilla had provision- 
ally to renounce the hope of knowing the fate of him 
she loved. 

All the springs of her mind relaxed at once ; she 
raised her hands to her breast, which was wrung by 
keen suffering, and, as she attempted to rise, sudden 
dizziness forced her to fall back upon the ground. 

Zilla was finally overcome, not by her emotion, not 
by grief, but by Nature. She was hungry, pitiful 
reality, absurd tyranny, which forced her to think of 
herself when all her thoughts, all her fears were for 
another. 

Since the night before, the gypsy had eaten noth- 
ing. She made one supreme effort, she rose, and, sup- 
porting herself by means of the walls which often 
seemed to recede beneath her trembling hand, she 
reached the House of Cyclops with great difficulty. 

“ Ah ! where have you come from,” asked the old 
portress, on seeing her thus, pale and tottering, “ what 
accident has happened to you ? ” 

The gypsy made no reply and gathered together the 
last remnant of her strength to climb the staircase 
leading to her room. 

After eating and resting, Zilla thought she would 
be as well as she had been ; as brave, as ready to re- 
sist all circumstances. 

That hope was presumptuous. The gypsy, it is true, 
had regained part of her physical strength, but a 
chill shook her limbs. That chill, at first superficial, 
soon penetrated the flesh; she felt chilled to her 
heart. 

She flung herself on her bed, heaped her clothing 


330 


Captain Satan, or, 

and a woolen cape on her shivering body ; then she shut 
her eyes, hoping for sleep and with it oblivion. 

But she was too deeply affected to find one moment 
of rest. 

All night she tossed on her bed, a prey to indefin- 
able uneasiness. 

During the struggle of her body against the disease 
which had attacked it, her mind sustained a still more 
terrible combat with itself. 

Zilla thought that her love had made her commit a 
great error ; in order to protect that love, she had dis- 
posed of Manuel’s life and liberty. 

Could passion, intense, deep as it was, excuse such 
an abuse ? 

Instead of going in search of the Count, instead of 
trying to bend M. Jean de Lamothe’s severity, in a 
word, of seeking Manuel’s salvation by the employ- 
ment of every contingent means, Zilla might have 
armed herself with a victorious proof and have pro- 
claimed aloud the young man’s innocence. 

She had Ben- J oël’s book ; she knew at least where 
to find it and on what page was that proof. 

But to act thus, was to separate herself forever from 
Manuel, by restoring to him his name and title, and 
Zilla’s selfishness had not been able to persuade itself 
to such a sacrifice. 

Now, she saw quite clearly that her hesitation and 
her reserve had left the field clear to Count Roland’s 
intrigues. 

“ If Manuel is dead, at this hour,” she said to her- 
self, “ it is I, I alone who have killed him.” 

That horrible thought weighed heavily upon her 
mind. She vainly tried to reassure herself against her 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 331 

own conscience ; she did not succeed. The logic .of 
facts crushed her. 

“ Well,” she cried at length, as if the judges were 
there to receive her desperate avowal; “he shall 
live ! I will destroy Count Boland’s iniquitous plot ; 
I will restore to Ludovic de Lembrat his father’s fortune 
and the love of her whom he has preferred to me.” 

The daylight filtered through the large pane of glass 
in Zilla’s window. 

She could not delay putting her plans into execu- 
tion any longer. 

Her eyelids were painfully heavy, she could scarcely 
raise them, she tried to leave the bed on which ex- 
haustion and pain had laid her. 

Her head felt as heavy as lead. 

She laid back on her pillow, and her temples began 
to throb violently ; it seemed to her at the same time 
as if a band of iron were pressing her forehead, and 
as if the balls of her eyes were of fire. 

Her eyelids closed ; she awaited the end of that at- 
tack. 

A strange torpor held her captive ; she did not dare 
to move, fearing to provoke another attack of the 
sudden illness which tortured her. 

However, her mind was still clear, and that mind 
told her broken body to rise and walk. 

The gypsy made a sudden leap and flung herself 
out of bed. 

At the very moment she rose, it seemed to her as if 
she received a violent blow on her forehead. 

She was stunned ; nevertheless, she extended her 
arms and essayed to walk in the direction of the piece 
of furniture in which was Ben- Joel’s book. 


332 


Captain Satan, or, 

That was the supreme effort. 

Zilla felt herself carried away in a sort of giddy 
whirlwind ; she could not see, she could not hear, she 
fell heavily upon the floor, uttering a stifled moan. 

When the old portress of the House of Cyclops 
heard noon strike, she was surprised not to have seen 
Zilla come downstairs. 

On the preceding night, she had been struck by the 
alteration in her features. Although there was little 
compassion in her nature, she, nevertheless, was un- 
easy enough to ascend to Zilla’s room, and to find out 
what cause detained her so late. 

Zilla still lay on the floor, motionless. 

The old woman touched her brow and her hands. 
Her hands were cold and her brow burning. 

With an energy which would not have been be- 
lieved in her, she took the inert form in her arms and 
carried or rather dragged it to the bed. 

Then she took a ewer from a stand, and thinking 
Zilla merely in a swoon, she sprinkled her face with 
water. 

Beneath that besprinkling, the gypsy shivered in 
every limb, but her eyes did not open, and her lips re- 
mained mute. 

In affright, the portress hastened to the door and 
summoned assistance. 

A doctor soon arrived, brought thither by the gyp- 
sies living in the house, and it was with great diffi- 
culty that he restored Zilla to consciousness. 

The poor girl only recovered consciousness for a few 
minutes ; another attack of fever triumphed over her 
strength ; she grew delirious and the doctor declared 
her life in danger. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 333 

She must be watched constantly ; in Ben- Joel’s ab- 
sence, the old portress decided to do it. 

During that time, Johann Mliller, faithful to the 
promise given to Zilla, watched for her return in 
order to tell her what had taken place. That night 
he had been detained by his duty and had not been 
able to go out, even for an instant. 

He finally grew weary of his long waiting and re- 
entered the prison, thinking much of the strange 
girl, so passionate in her tenderness and yet so for- 
getful. 

The details furnished by the young jailer as to the 
prisoner were perfectly exact. 

Until the evening of that day Manuel had seen in 
his cell only Count Roland, we know on what oc- 
casion, and M. Jean de Lamothe. 

To him the time passed without fear as well as 
without hope ; he was so thoroughly imbued with the 
sense of an irremediable misfortune, that his thoughts 
were as if dead. 

His monotonous life was interrupted only by the 
daily visit of the jailer, who came to bring him his 
bread and to renew his allowance of water. 

An hour after Zilla’s visit to the Count, and while 
she was vainly trying to obtain from the provost the 
favor of seeing Manuel, a man presented himself at 
the châtelet. 

He showed the order given to Roland by M. Jean 
de Lamothe, and the doors were opened to him. 

That man carried a basket, containing two bottles 
of wine, a fresh loaf and a pie. 

Without any questions being asked, he was admit- 
ted to Manuel’s cell, and left alone with him. 


334 Captain Satan, or, 

It is almost needless to add that the man was sent 
by Count Boland. 

He had received from his master very minute in- 
structions and of a nature to baffle all suspicion. 

When he entered the cell, Manuel, as was his cus- 
tom, was crouching in a corner. He made no sign, he 
did not even turn his head on hearing the door of his 
prison open at that unusual hour. 

In about a minute, however, as the newcomer re- 
mained motionless before him, Manuel looked at him 
as well as the doubtful light entering the cell would 
permit him. 

“ What do you want with me ? ” he finally asked. 

“ Sir,” replied the Count’s messenger, “ a person 
greatly interested in you bade me give you this.” 

At the same time, he placed beside Manuel the 
basket he was carrying, adding, as he did so : 

“ To-morrow morning, in fact, daily, I will come to 
replenish these provisions. The grand provost has 
given me permission.” 

“ Has Count de Lembrat sent you ? ” 

“No, sir,” said the man, faithful to his trust. 

“ Has Cyrano ? ” 

“ Ho. But do not question me. The person wishes 
to keep the secret.” 

A ray of enlightenment flashed across Manuel’s 
mind. 

“ Could it be Gilberte ? ” he thought. 

He then examined the messenger closely, but his 
features did not recall any familiar face. 

“ Why keep that secret ? ” he then objected. “ By 
telling me the name of him or ... of her who 
sent you, what do you risk ? Is it a woman ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 335 

“ Perhaps. But I repeat to you, do not ask me 
what I cannot tell you. Adieu, sir, or rather, until 
to-morrow. Nothing shall be wanting henceforth 
that can mitigate the severity of your captivity.” 

"When Manuel was again alone, he tried to solve the 
enigma. 

Who could be interested in him ? 

Cyrano, no doubt. But had he not just learned that 
Cyrano had nothing to do with the delicate attention 
of which he was the recipient ? 

Gilberte ? He had thought of her for an instant ; 
the mystery enshrouded in the message had given rise 
to the thought, certainly inadmissible, now that he 
considered it calmly. 

Gilberte was too well guarded, too well watched, 
to be able to give Manuel such direct evidence of her 
thoughts of him. 

Zilla remained. Manuel knew her to be guilty and 
felt that she was jealous ; still, he did not believe her 
incapable of a certain generosity which the calcula- 
tions of her selfishness had not entirely destroyed. 

Manuel, moreover, enlightened by Ben- J oël’s words, 
was right to believe in Zilla’s affection, and if he 
knew very well why the gypsy had participated in his 
ruin, he knew as well that she might interest herself 
in his situation and seek means to lighten it. 

In short, he wished to explain the mysterious mes- 
senger’s course, and, for lack of better, he attributed 
the inspiration to Zilla. 

He then felt curious to examine the food brought 
him, thinking he might find a skilfully hidden note, 
and in that note the explanation sought for. 

He broke the bread, rummaged in the basket, and 


336 


Captain Satan, or, 

found nothing, the Count having refrained from mak- 
ing use of Zilla’s letter. 

He then pushed aside the food, whose appetizing 
odor no longer tempted him. 

Toward noon, however, at the time he was in the 
habit of eating his meal, he stretched out his hand to- 
ward the white bread, offered him in exchange for his 
coarse loaf, broke off a piece and ate it. 

Then he cut the pie, and had already eaten two or 
three mouthfuls of it, when the door again opened. 

Johann Müller appeared, set a lighted lantern on a 
stone which jutted out into the cell, and put a loaf 
and a jug of water within Manuel’s reach, say- 
ing : 

“ A good appetite, sir. I am pleased to see that 
you did not have to await me for dinner to-day.” 

“ Thanks, my friend,” replied Manuel, with a sad 
smile. “ Could you tell me to whom I owe . . .” 

“ I do not know. But do you recognize this ? ” 

Having spoken those words, Johann took up his 
lantern, and in its light, before Manuel’s eyes, sparkled 
the silver bracelet sent by Zilla. 

With an astonishment, easy to comprehend, the 
young man seized the trinket, which was perfectly 
familiar to him. 

He thought he had found the explanation of the 
preceding facts. 

“ It is indeed Zilla ! ” he reflected, aloud. 

“ There is some writing on it,” again explained the 
jailer ; “ read it quickly, and if I can be of any use to 
you . . 

Then only, did Manuel perceive the characters 
traced on the circlet of silver. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 337 

He deciphered them without difficulty, turned some- 
what pale and murmured : 

“ If she speaks the truth, I am lost.” 

“ What is it ? ” asked Johann. 

“ Nothing,” replied the prisoner, rereading Zilla’s 
message. 

The words of that message were startling. 

The gypsy warned Manuel against all surprises ; she 
told him of the poison stolen by the Count, and 
begged him not to touch the food which had been 
brought to him that very morning to the prison by a 
strange man. 

But Manuel had tasted some of the food. 

“ I am lost,” he repeated. 

However, Manuel suffered no pain, and the poison 
he had been warned against did not keep its victims 
waiting thus. 

“ Zilla is mistaken,” thought he. 

His eyes then fell upon the basket, in which side by 
side lay two bottles of wine still intact. 

He took one of them, broke the neck on the corner 
of a stove, and, dipping his finger in the liquid, he let 
one drop, one only, fall on his lips. 

He immediately experienced a burning sensation 
and flung far from him the bottle, which broke into 
pieces on the ground. 

After which, he took up his jug and drank some 
water. 

Johann, perplexed, watched his actions. 

“ What is it ? ” he ventured to ask. 

“It has just been proven to me once more, my 
friend, that I am indeed Miscount Ludovic de Lem- 
brat. Tell that to the man who came here this morn- 


338 Captain Satan, or, 

ing, and bid him repeat my words to his master. It 
will suffice to prevent his coming here again. As for 
you, you may rest assured that I shall never forget 
the service you have just done me in bringing me 
this bracelet.” 

“ A service ? ” 

“ You have simply saved my life.” 

“ What, was that wine . . . ? ” 

“ Say nothing about all this ; confine yourself to the 
commission with which I have charged you. Later 
on, perhaps, I may call for your testimony. And 
once free, for I shall be free some day, I hope I shall 
be able to repay your kindness.” 

When Johann Müller withdrew, having assured 
Manuel that he would be discreet, the latter took the 
other bottle of wine and hid it under the floor of his 
cell. 

The following day, the Count’s emissary arrived at 
the châtelet , this time with empty hands. 

“He had just come,” he said, “for news of the 
prisoner.” 

Johann answered him, and his answer was what 
Manuel had dictated to him. 

The man, who knew nothing, transmitted it obedi- 
ently to his master. 

The Count uttered an exclamation of anger. 

“Did you speak my name to the prisoner?” he 
asked. 

“ Ho, my lord, you forbade me.” 

“Then . . . go!” 

The man, frightened at Eoland’s terrible air, hastily 
obeyed. 

“Who has betrayed me?” wondered the Count, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 330 

when alone. “ Manuel is alive, and still threatens me 
from the idepths of his cell. To-morrow, perhaps, he 
will accuse me. It is time to put an end to the tardi- 
ness of the grand provost’s proceedings.” 

Boland rang, ordered his carriage, and drove to the 
house of M. Jean de Lamothe. 


340 


Captain Satan, or, 


XXXIY. 

All these events occurred while Cyrano was de- 
tained at Toulouse, while Castilian was travelling over 
the high-roads, and while Ben- Joël was undertaking to 
gain possession of the document confided to Jacques 
Longuépée’s care, an enterprise in which he was to 
miscarry so piteously, as we have seen. 

When the Bohemian, glad to escape from Jacques’ 
formidable grasp, found that he was at a distance suf- 
ficient to insure his safety, — he sat down by the road- 
side and began to consider his situation. 

It presaged him nothing good ! 

He had scarcely any money. He knew nothing 
about Binaldo, and were he to succeed in rejoining 
the latter, it would be to hear him reproach him for 
his awkwardness. 

Moreover, he knew nothing of the presence of the 
true Castilian at Saint-Sernin. 

When he had meditated for some time, he arrived 
at the conclusion that the best thing to do, under the 
circumstances, was to turn back to Paris and to effect 
a union with Rinaldo, if it were possible. 

He Lem brat’s prudent valet had not left his associ- 
ate without planning the course of his return. That 
course he was to follow if circumstances obliged him 
to return to Périgord. 

Ben- J oel started out, without suspecting the agree- 
able surprise awaiting him a short distance off. 

He had been on the way scarcely two hours, indeed, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 341 

when on the horizon he saw a horseman coming 
toward him at full speed. Instinctively the Bohemian 
halted. When that horseman, slackening his horse’s 
pace, was within gun-shot, Ben- Joël uttered a cry of 
delight. 

He had recognized Rinaldo. 

Count de Lembrat’s proxy, having played his famous 
scene as the police-officer at Colignac, had continued 
his journey. 

His plan was to go to Saint-Sernin first to learn there 
of Ben-Joël’s success, and then to go on to Gardannes, 
where he was not sorry to cast a glance as future pro- 
prietor at the fine farm which Roland had promised 
him as the just reward for his services. 

Ben-Joël’s cry of delight was answered by an ex- 
clamation from Rinaldo. 

He alighted, and, extending his hand to his com- 
panion, said : 

“Well, I hope it is all done ? ” 

Ben- Joël assumed a contrite air, as he corrected : 

“ Done ? I should hope not.” 

And, putting his defeat in the light which could ex- 
cuse or warrant it, he related the scene of that morn- 
ing to Rinaldo. 

“ Clown ! ” cried Rinaldo. “ You were in too big a 
hurry.” 

“ It was essential to hurry. The curé expects 
Cyrano at any minute.” 

“ He will expect him a long time.” 

Rinaldo, in his turn, explained. He briefly narrated 
his achievements, and Ben- Joël was forced to confess 
that he had, indeed, been too hasty. 

“ However,” he concluded, “ I have nothing to re- 


342 


Captain Satan, or, 

proacli myself with, I did not know that Bergerac 
could no longer interfere with my plans. On the 
other hand, I had Castilian’s arrival to fear.” 

“ The master, if I am not mistaken, is not as much 
to be feared at this moment as the servant. Conse- 
quently, we will make another attempt and make an 
end of it. We will set out this evening for Saint- 
Sernin.” 

The two associates entered an inn and ordered 
something to eat. 

Night gradually fell. It was dark when Binaldo 
and Ben- Joël had finished their meal. 

At that moment, two horses going at a furious pace, 
flew along the road and attracted their attention. 

They caught a confused glimpse of two dark forms 
leaning over the horses’ necks and urging them madly 
on. 

“ Those people are in a great hurry,” Binaldo con- 
tented himself with saying, as he drained his glass for 
the last time. “ Let us do as they are, friend Ben- 
Joël, do not let us lose time; I will explain to you, en 
route , how I count on terminating this adventure.” 

The valet took Ben- Joël behind him, and the two 
men turned in the direction of Saint-Sernin. 

It would take them an hour to reach there at a 
leisurely pace. 

On the way, they conversed. 

“What is your plan?” Ben- Joël ventured to ask. 

“It is very simple. Are you familiar with the 
cure’s house ? ” 

“ From top to bottom, and to the remotest corner.” 

“ Do you know where de Lembrat’s document is ? ” 

“ In a cupboard, behind Longuépée’s bed.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 343 

“ Yery well ! The thing to do will be to get the 
curé out of his house, to-night, and to profit by his 
absence to search the cupboard in question.” 

“ To get him out of his house ? That will be diffi- 
cult.” 

“ Why ? Does he not belong to his parishioners, 
and if he is called to the bedside of one of them, will 
he refuse to go ? ” 

“ In order to deceive him thus, it would be necessary 
to know some one at Saint-Sernin, and we know no 
one there.” 

“ There is an inn there.” 

“ Yes, but I do not see . . .” 

“ Before reaching the inn,” continued Binaldo, im- 
perturbably, “ I will wrap you in my cloak. You will 
only open your mouth to utter a few moans. Then, I 
will have you carried to a bed ; I will say that I found 
you dying on the road, at some distance from here, 
and I will ask for a priest to assist at your last mo- 
ments.” 

“ I understand,” said Ben- Joël. “ The curé will ar- 
rive full of zeal ; we will await him behind the door 
of the room, and we will stab him.” 

“ One moment. The curé is stout ! ” 

“ A veritable Hercules.” 

“ In that case, no stabbing. We would only fail in 
that, and all would be lost. From the first, we must 
prevent him from crying out and make it impossible 
for him to give the alarm. Let me arrange it all. 
Moreover, I do not wish to shed blood for which 
sooner or later I might be called to account; that 
would annoy me greatly, especially in this country 
where I intend to settle,” 


344 


Captain Satan, or, 

“As you please!” agreed Ben- Joël, who left all 
pretentions to the management of the affair in Ri- 
naldo’s hands. 

It was ten o’clock at night when our adventurers 
arrived in the vicinity of Saint-Sernin. 

“ Where is the inn ? ” then asked Rinaldo. 

“ On the place de Y Église.” 

“ It is both a long way off and quite near, a long 
way off for folks in haste to procure a lodging, quite 
near the cure’s dwelling. We might find a better ! ” 

Ben- Joël made no reply; his eyes peered into the 
darkness around him. 

“ See there ! ” said he, very soon, pointing to a faint 
light which glimmered in the distance. 

“ That light ? ” 

“ Yes ; it comes from an isolated house, skirting the 
road. Do not let us go too far.” 

Rinaldo followed that advice and stopped his horse. 
He then alighted, in order to prepare for the part 
which he proposed to play. 

Ben- Joël was rolled in Binaldo’s cloak and laid 
upon the horse, which its master took by the bridle 
and led toward the house. 

That house was of modest appearance, low, covered 
with moss-groAvn tiles and cracked all over. 

Rinaldo knocked hurriedly at the door, saying : 

“ If you are a good Christian, open, open quickly.” 

The owner of the house was poor enough not to 
fear the attacks of thieves, so that call, although 
somewhat imperious, did not render him uneasy. 

He opened the door, and, raising above his head the 
lamp which lighted his hut, he asked : 

“ What do you want ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 345 

“ Shelter for the night,” replied Rinaldo. “ I am 
going to Fougerolles ; on the road, at about a half 
league from here, I found this poor devil stretched out 
in the middle of the road. If he is not dead, he is 
not much better.” 

“ Come in,” said the peasant, simply. 

Speaking thus, he kindly lent his aid to Rinaldo 
and took in his arms Ben- Joel’s rigid form, which he 
carried into the cabin and laid gently on a bed of 
leaves. 

At that moment, Ben- Joël, clever actor as he was, 
moaned feebly. 

“ He is not dead,” said the peasant, “ he must be re- 
lieved. Do you know what ails him ? Is he hurt ? ” 

“ Ho,” said Rinaldo ; “ I think it is an apoplectic fit. 
The best thing to do, just now, I believe, would be to 
go in search of a priest. 

“ But, tell me,” he added, “ have you not a better 
bed to give to the sufferer ? I will pay you for this 
trouble.” 

“ I have no other bed than that. Excuse me.” 

“Ver} T well, my friend. Your good-will shall be 
taken into account. Let us now think of the salvation 
of this soul.” 

“ You are right. I will fetch the curé.” 

“ If you please,” said Rinaldo. 

And leaning over Ben- Joel’s body, he added : 

“Go quickly. He is very low.” 

The peasant obeyed. 

When he had disappeared, Ben- Joël sat up, saying : 

“ It seems to me, friend Rinaldo, that this is a very 
risky action.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” 


346 


Captain Satan, or, 

“Undoubtedly. This good man will surely be 
against us, and will defend his curé.” 

“We will manage to get him out of the way. Stay 
where you are and listen to me.” 

In a few words, Einaldo unfolded his plan ; then he 
took pains to ensure its execution. 

The two bandits soon found what was necessary to 
them; a half-hour passed, during which they were 
enabled to prepare for the cure’s visit. 

In order to engage in an enterprise as perilous as 
theirs, it was essential to be, like them, trained in all 
the artifices of a life on highways, and prompt to em- 
ploy expedients apparently the most unacceptable. 

Against them, they had Jacques’ well-known 
strength, and for them the advantage of a situation 
which would arouse no suspicion in their victim. 

That compensation sufficed to give them confidence. 
Kinaldo opened the door noiselessly and listened. A 
murmur of voices was soon heard. 

“We have succeeded,” muttered the valet. “ Friend 
Ben- Joël, do not forget your rôle.” 

Then, as if yielding to impatience, he opened the 
door wide, and took several steps on the way to meet 
the curé and his guide. 

“Well, sir,” said Jacques, addressing Kinaldo, “how 
is your sick man ? ” 

“ He does not speak, he does not stir, but I think he 
still can hear. Pardon me, sir, for having disturbed 
you at this hour.” 

“If I have come in time, all is well.” 

“ Come, then,” said Kinaldo. “ As for you, my dear 
fellow,” he continued, slipping a gold piece into the 
peasant’s hand, “ please be kind enough to see to my 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 347 

horse. I saw near your house a shed, in which the 
animal will do very well for to-night. Take olf the 
bridle and give it a drink.” 

“ I will do my best,” said the peasant, bewildered 
by the traveler’s liberality. 

And he left Rinaldo to enter his house with Jacques, 
while he went away to do as he had been asked. 

The curé entered the hut without mistrust. Dimly 
lighted up by the lamp, Ben- Joël lay motionless on 
the bed of leaves. 

His black hair hung in his face and the lower part 
of his body was enveloped in a large cloak, on which 
lay his arms ready to seize their awaited prey. J acques 
could scarcely distinguish the objects in the room. 

Rinaldo pointed to the bed, saying : 

“ There is the man, sir.” 

Longuépée kneeled down and bent over the sup- 
posed dying man, saying in his strong voice : 

“ Do you hear me, brother ? ” 

With a movement as quick as thought, Ben- Joël 
raised his arms, and his sinewy fingers clutched the 
cure’s throat. 

At the same time Rinaldo flung himself on Lon- 
guépée, who was unable to defend himself, owing to 
his kneeling posture, passed around his body a sort of 
lasso, and while Ben- Joël continued to hold him, suf- 
focated, between fingers as inflexible as steel cramp- 
irons, he bound his legs and his arms. 

By a common movement, the bodies of the three 
men were occasionally raised by violent starts, but 
Ben- Joël did not relax his hold, and Rinaldo continued 
his work. 

Gradually the violence of the curé’s struggles de- 


348 


Captain Satan, or, 

creased; his eyeballs, becoming bloodshot, seemed 
ready to start from their sockets, and his respiration 
was labored, from the pressure on his throat. 

Rinaldo then gagged him. 

The struggle had lasted scarcely one minute. 

Jacques finally succumbed. 

Ben- Joël and Rinaldo threw him on the bed; they 
had nothing more to fear from him. 

“ Row, the other,” commanded Rinaldo. 

Both men went out. They met the peasant. With 
him, they took less precaution. The peasant was, 
moreover, an old man, incapable of offering serious 
resistance. Without speaking a word, Rinaldo flung 
his cloak over his head, threw him down and calmly 
gagged him, while Ben- Joël bound his feet and his 
hands securely. 

That task achieved, the old man was carried into 
the shed and placed on the litter, not far from Ri- 
naldo’s horse. 

“You have nothing to fear,” the man whispered to 
him, as he went out ; “ sleep peacefully until to-morrow, 
my good fellow.” 

And leaving behind him his horse, which would 
only have been in his way on that occasion, the valet 
said to Ben- Joël : 

“ The field is clear. To the vicarage, partner, and 
quickly, too ! ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 349 


XXXY. 

Quiet reigned round about Saint-Sernin. The vil- 
lage itself was wrapped in the deepest silence ; no 
lights burned in the windows, and as the night was 
dark, it was necessary to know the roads very well in 
order not to lose one’s way. 

Ben- Joël acted as guide to his companion. They 
arrived at the place de l’Église, without having met a 
living soul. Scarcely fifty paces separated them from 
the vicarage. 

Before venturing on an attack whose result, accord- 
ing to their belief, could not fail to be decisive, the two 
adventurers held a consultation. 

Two ways of entering the place were open to them ; 
the door and the window. The door was solid, of 
thick oak, and very probably it would resist their 
efforts. They could, with propriety, knock at the door 
and have it opened by the servant whom they could 
easily deal with. 

But a woman’s cries might attract the attention of 
the neighbors and set a goodly share of the villagers 
upon Ben- Joël and Binaldo. 

The window remained. 

That window, Ben -Joël was perfectly familiar with. 
It was through it, that very morning, that he had 
issued, or rather that he had been abruptly put out of 
the cure’s house. 

It was very easy of access. Moreover, which was a 
great advantage in the matter, it opened into the cure’s 
own room. 


350 Captain Satan, or, 

“ Come,” concluded Rinaldo, to whom Ben-Joël had 
made the explanations we have just read, “ do not let 
us lose time : let us scale it.” 

“ We will need some light,” remarked the Bohemian. 

“ I have thought of that.” 

“ Have you a lantern ? ” 

“ Ro ! but I have a tinder-box, and down yonder, in 
the cabin where you played your rôle so well, I took 
some stalks of hemp which will suffice us until we 
shall have found a lamp.” 

“ Come then, I will enter first.” 

They stole along to the foot of the vicarage wall. 

Then Rinaldo rendered Ben- Joël the same service 
which, on another occasion, Castilian rendered Ma- 
rotte, that is to say he lent him his back in order that 
he might reach the window. 

The Bohemian drew himself up by main force, and, 
once erect, not without difficulty on the stone ledge 
he bore his entire weight on the window-frame. 

The window, weakened as it was by the rough 
treatment given it recently by the curé, opened ab- 
ruptly. 

At the same moment there was a movement within 
the room, which passed unnoticed by Ben- Joël, who 
was busy. 

“ Row, it is your turn ! ” said the Bohemian, extend- 
ing his arms toward Rinaldo. 

Ben-Joël was strong; de Lembrat’s valet was not 
afraid to trust to his strength ; he stood up in order 
to seize his companion’s two hands ; the latter lifted 
him, Rinaldo’s feet being braced against the wall, and 
drew him up to him. 

“ To work ! ” he then said, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 351 

While Ben- Joël groped in the darkness and found a 
lamp on a table, Binaldo struck the tinder and pro- 
duced a light by means of a hemp stalk. 

Instinctively, the lamp once lighted, the two men 
cast a glance around them. 

The bed curtains were drawn, but they seemed to 
stir slightly, — no doubt that was caused by the night 
air coming through the open window. 

With his finger, Ben- Joël pointed out the oaken 
cupboard to his acolyte. 

“ Is it there ? ” asked Binaldo. 

« Yes.” 

Ben- Joël took the lamp and turned toward the bed. 
Binaldo followed him. 

Suddenly, they both stopped, petrified. 

The bed curtains had moved, and that time it was 
not the wind which stirred them. 

At the same time, a sound like the cocking of a 
pistol, was heard at the end of the room. 

Binaldo paused, detained Ben- Joël and half-drew 
his dagger. 

He looked at the bed as a huntsman in search of 
game looks at a thicket from which he expects to see 
the game emerge. 

Silence again reigned in the room. 

And, like a huntsman mistaken in his calculations, 
Binaldo murmured : 

“ It is nothing.” 

As he turned to advance again, the bed curtains 
separated, violently that time, and a satirical face ap- 
peared, while a voice said at the same time : 

“Well, sirs, decide; I have been looking at you a 
quarter of an hour to learn the object of your kind visit.” 


359 Captain Satan, or, 

With those words, Cyrano leaped out of bed, his 
sword in one hand, a pistol in the other, and advanced 
toward the two bandits. 

They fled to the other end of the room, unable to 
utter a word of menace or of supplication, so startled 
were they at the sudden apparition. 

“ Jacques ! Jacques ! ” then cried Cyrano. 

Kinaldo and Ben- Joël had by that time regained 
their composure. 

“ Do not call the curé,” sneered the latter ; “ he is 
busy elsewhere.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed de Lembrat’s valet, “ it is a piece 
of good fortune to meet you here, M. de Cyrano.” 

And, slyly, he took a pistol from his belt, aimed at 
the nobleman and fired. 

A long, bleeding scratch appeared on Cyrano’s 
cheek. He saw that death was imminent. 

As he rushed toward the window to cut off his as- 
sailants’ retreat, he pressed the trigger of his pistol, 
almost mechanically and without aiming. 

A cry of rage stifled by a groan replied to the ex- 
plosion of the weapon. 

Then a body fell heavily upon the floor. 

Before Cyrano could tell which of his enemies he 
had just felled, the lamp was thrown down and went 
out. 

The nobleman took the defensive and waited. 

The darkness around him was silent, the faint 
moans uttered by the wounded man could scarcely be 
heard. 

“ Come, surrender,” said the poet. 

The sound of a footstep gliding furtively across the 
floor was the sole reply to those words. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 353 

The man who was walking thus, seemed to be going 
toward the door. 

Cyrano stamped his foot. 

A voice from the lower floor answered him. In 
another minute the door opened, and Castilian, lamp 
in hand, appeared. 

“ It took a long time to awaken you,” cried Cyrano, 
angrily. 

Sulpice had no time to reply. 

Ben- Joël rushed toward him to open a way for 
himself, knife in hand, and to attempt to escape by 
means of the staircase. 

Castilian held his lamp up to his face, for lack of a 
better weapon. 

Blinded by the light, burned by the flame, Ben- Joël 
retreated a step, and literally fell into the arms of 
Cyrano, who held him tight, calling to Castilian : 

“ Help me.” 

The secretary put down the lamp, and in his turn 
fell upon the Bohemian, who, in a moment, was dis- 
armed and bound in such a manner that he could no 
longer cause his conquerors the least anxiety. 

It was then only that Cyrano could turn to Binaldo. 
The valet was lying with his face on the floor ; which, 
in his vicinity, was red with blood. 

“Is he dead ? ” asked the poet. “ That would be a 
pity ; we could have made him speak.” 

The wounded man uttered a low moan. 

Cyrano lifted him in his arms and opened his clothes. 
Kinaldo had been struck in the left side by Cyrano’s 
bullet. 

“ He is lost ! ” murmured the latter, who understood 
wounds. “ Let us try, however, to make him come to.” 


354 


Captain Satan, or, 

The dying man was laid on the bed ; after which 
Cyrano began to grow uneasy about the curé. 

“Where is Jacques?” he asked. “ Has not all the 
noise we have made here awakened him ? ” 

Castilian ran to the small room which Jacques 
had taken in order to leave his room at Cyrano’s 
disposal. 

We know in advance that he found it empty. Cyr- 
ano understood or guessed what had happened. He 
took another pistol, loaded it, and approaching Ben- 
Joël, lying on the floor, he said to him coolly : 

“ Where is the curé ? If you do not answer, in less 
time than it takes to say a Pater , by my faith, I will 
shoot you through the brain.” 

Ben- Joël was in no position to resist; Cyrano’s 
glance, still more than his words told him that the 
threat was not lightly made. 

He confessed all. 

The governess and Marotte soon entered the room. 
Castilian undertook to go with them to free Jacques ; 
as for Cyrano, he stayed alone to watch the prisoner 
and the wounded man, to whom out of humanity he 
showed some care. 

The explanation of Savinien’s unexpected return can 
be given here. 

Shut up in the prison at Toulouse, he would prob- 
ably have remained there for a long time, thanks to 
the slowness of the proceedings and to the obscurity 
of the facts, had not the first act of the play which 
had brought him there, taken place before M. de 
Colignac. 

The latter, on returning from the chase at Cussan, 
did not fail to learn from the bailiff the state of affairs. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 355 

Master Cadignan, proud of his capture, did not need 
to be urged to relate all, including his prisoner’s es- 
cape. 

For three days, Colignac was satisfied. 

On the morning of the fourth day, the bailiff came 
to see him, and with a satisfaction he took no pains to 
hide, he said to the nobleman : 

“You see, sir, that I was right in warning you 
against your guest. He is surely a great criminal, as 
the magistrates of Toulouse will prove to you.” 

“ What do you mean ? Cyrano is safe from your 
nonsense, I suppose.” 

“ You are mistaken ! He escaped from Colignac, 
but he was recaptured at Toulouse, where they are 
keeping him in prison, pending the burning of him at 
the stake.” 

“ May the devil burn you ! ” cried the nobleman. 

And, forthwith, having unceremoniously dismissed 
the bailiff, he ordered his carriage and set out in haste 
for Toulouse. 

His influence was great. In a few days he had set 
at naught Rinaldo’s work, and had obtained Savinien’s 
liberty. 

All those misadventures had greatly vexed the lat- 
ter, besides having caused him to lose valuable time. 

His friend replenished his purse, which the lawyers 
had drained to the last pistole, gave him a horse and 
started him off for Saint-Sernin. 

Marotte met him on the way and knew him at once 
from the description Castilian had given her of his 
master. 

Besides, she questioned him fearlessly, told him the 
object of her journey and had no trouble in convincing 


356 


Captain Satan, or, 

him that they must increase their speed in order to 
reach the cure’s in good season. 

The gypsy and the poet arrived at Saint-Sernin that 
very night. It was they, who, during supper, Ben- J oël 
and Binaldo had seen pass along the road on horse- 
back, and whom he had not recognized. 

Now, with Ben- Joël taken prisoner and Binaldo 
dying, Savinien might well think himself master of 
the situation. 

He did not forget, however, that he would still have 
a great deal to contend against in order to assure 
Manuel’s deliverance and Boland’s confusion. 

But the struggle did not trouble him. Had he not 
regained possession of Count de Lembrat’s document, 
that sovereign weapon with which he had threatened 
Boland ? 

****** 

It was an hour after midnight, when Castilian re- 
turned with the curé. 

Jacques was ashamed of his defeat; he had allowed 
himself to be tricked like a child by two villains. 

Cyrano consoled himself with the thought that the 
hypocrisy of which he had been the dupe had become 
reality. 

Several hours before, Jacques had been summoned 
to the bedside of a dying man who was well ; he was 
now to assist at the last moments of the author of that 
sacrilegious strategy. 

Ben- Joël was put in a small vault without windows, 
where he was bidden to patiently await Cyrano’s pleas- 
ure, and the three men, that is to say, Savinien, 
J acques and Castilian, gathered around Binaldo’s bed. 

An instant before, the valet had regained conscious- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 357 

ness, and his wild eyes roved from one to the other of 
those present. Undoubtedly, his mind, clouded by the 
approach of death, would not permit him to exactly 
grasp his situation. 

Perhaps he thought he was dreaming and mistook 
those speaking and moving around him for creations 
of his brain. 

Cyrano held him as if fascinated beneath his glance, 
the fixedness of which ended in restoring the dying 
man to the true sense of his condition. 

His eyes lighted up, a frown knit his brows, and he 
heaved a deep sigh. 

He was suffering, and with suffering reason re- 
turned. 

“ M. de Cyrano,” he began, in a voice so weak that 
it was but a vague whisper to the ears of the witnesses 
of that scene. 

Savinien approached and, placing his hand on that 
of the valet to make him understand that he was deal- 
ing with a man and not a shadow, he said, in a solemn 
voice, 

“ Rinaldo, you are about to die. Reconcile your- 
self with God ; He will give you enough time, I hope, 
that you may make amends for your injustice toward 
mankind ! ” 

It was now Jacques’ turn to address the wounded 
man, whose condition was growing worse each minute. 

Castilian and Savinien retired for an instant, and 
the priest heard Rinaldo’s confession. 

At the moment when the bandit felt the world 
slipping from him, when he caught a glimpse of doubt- 
ful eternity, his soul was bowed beneath the weight 
of tardy remorse. 


358 


Captain Satan, or, 

The gulf was there, yawning ; before falling into it, 
the man felt the need of freeing himself from the for- 
midable burden of purifying his heart and of hearing 
a compassionate voice murmur in his ear those words 
of hope and of faith at which he had so often scoffed. 

1 His lips, accustomed to blasphemy, instinctively 
murmured a prayer, and he looked at the priest with 
the anxiety of the culprit who awaits the supreme 
moment of indulgence or of malediction. 

When the wounded man had answered all Jacques’ 
questions, when the priest’s lips had murmured one last 
benediction, Castilian and Savinien were again called 
into the room. 

“ This man dies repentant and pardoned,” said the 
curé to them, “ what do you wish him to do now ? ” 

“ Can you write ? ” Savinien asked the dying man. 

Rinaldo made a sign in the negative. 

“ Can you sign your name ? ” continued the poet. 

“ Yes,” replied the valet. 

“You will, in that case, dictate your testament.” 

The wounded man smiled bitterly. 

“You should say my confession.” 

“ Precisely. Before appearing before God, you will 
leave in my hands an avowal of the criminal enter- 
prises of which Count Roland de Lembrat has been 
the instigator and you the instrument ; you will attest 
the existence of the proofs of Manuel’s innocence, of 
those proofs which the Count has put out of the way, 
and you will leave this world with a clear conscience, 
knowing that you have bequeathed to us a means of 
repairing the wrong in which you have participated.” 

Rinaldo collected his strength in order to make the 
confession required of him. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 359 

He related all that had taken place since Manuel’s 
entrance into his brother’s house ; he exposed all the 
plots and laid bare all his master’s secrets. 

While he spoke, Castilian wrote. 

When all was finished, Cyrano read over slowly the 
résumé of the confession and handed it to Rinaldo, 
who put his signature at the end of it with an un- 
steady hand. 

“ Bring in Ben- Joël,” the poet then bade his secre- 
tary. 

Castilian obeyed, and reappeared at the expiration 
of an instant, pushing the Bohemian before him. 

“ Read this,” said Savinien to him, harshly, putting 
Rinaldo’s declaration before his eyes. 

“ I will read whatsoever you like,” agreed the knave 
with the remarkable docility he always exhibited 
when he felt that he was in hands stronger than his. 

And he read. 

“ Sign, now, you as well,” continued the poet. 

“ I will sign whatsoever you like,” replied the Bo- 
hemian, faithful to his respectful formula. 

“ Here,” then said Cyrano to Jacques; “take care 
of this writing ; it will be useful to us some day.” 

The curé, who never questioned his friend’s plans, 
took the confession, folded it, and without speaking, 
put it in the pocket of his short cassock. 

“My lord,” Ben-Joel ventured to ask, addressing 
Cyrano, “ what will you do with me ? ” 

“ I will have you arrested.” 

The wretch began to tremble, and his knees bent as 
if he were about to fall at the poet’s feet. 

“ Coward ! you are afraid,” said the latter, scorn- 
fully. “ Come, rest easy ; you can yet save your skin.” 


360 Captain Satan, or, 

“ How ? ” exclaimed Ben- Joël, who clung longingly 
to that hope. 

“ By giving me the book of your tribe.” 

“ I will give it to you,” the Bohemian hastened to say. 

“ Well ; it is in Paris, is it not ? ” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“ We will leave then to-morrow in your charming 
company. Castilian, take away this man.” 

“ Then, going up to Longuépée, who had resumed 
his watch at Rinaldo’s bedside, he asked : 

“ Have you hope ? ” 

“ I hope that God has pardoned him,” replied the 
priest, in a grave voice. 

Savinien looked at Rinaldo. His head w r as bowed 
on his breast. De Lembrat’s valet was dead. 

On the next day he was interred in the cemetery at 
Saint-Sernin, not far from the “ beautiful farm ” whose 
proprietor he had dreamed of becoming. 

Ben- Joel, very ill at ease in his vault, reflected dur- 
ing that time on the vicissitudes of his destiny and 
nursed new plans. 

He thirsted more than ever for vengeance. Ilis 
cupidity even yielded to the hatred with which Cyr- 
ano had inspired him. 

“My dear Jacques,” said Cyrano to the curé, as he 
announced his approaching departure to him, “ I in- 
vite you to the marriage of Ludovic de Lembrat with 
Mlle. Gilberte de Faventines ; still better, I wish for 
you to pronounce the nuptial benediction. Arrange, 
therefore, to go to Paris in tw r o weeks. I will offer 
you hospitality there in my turn.” 

The curé offered some resistance ; then he pledged 
his word, and Cyrano could leave contented. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 361 

Ben- Joel was fastened on Rinaldo’s horse, which 
was coupled to Castilian’s ; the latter was especially 
charged to watch the Bohemian, and the small caravan 
set out for Paris. 

We must not neglect to say that Marotte was of the 
party. 

She had asked Cyrano’s permission to go with him, 
and the poet, charmed by her cheerfulness as well as 
her devotion, had readily given his consent. 

On seeing Marotte appear, at the moment of de- 
parture, Ben- J oël cast at her one of those glances full 
of anger which say more than words. 

The dancer shrugged her shoulders and cast a glance 
and a meaning smile at Castilian, which succeeded in 
making the gallant secretary forget the personage who 
had duped him at Romorantin. 

Cyrano had recovered his good-humor. He wished 
to pass through Colignac. The itinerary would not 
make his route any longer, and he wanted to have the 
pleasure of thanking his friend for the service rendered 
him, and of once more greeting Master Cadignan, his 
particular enemy. 


362 


Captain Satan, or, 


XXXVI. 

One alone among the travelers remained taciturn 
and moody: it was Ben- Joël. 

The master-knave cherished the hope, perhaps chi- 
merical, of making up to his companions for his enforced 
politeness, and that as soon as possible. 

In order to be avenged on Cyrano, the surest 
means he thought was to fall back on Count Boland. 

He calculated on finding the latter favorably dis- 
posed, notwithstanding the utter failure of the expe- 
dition to Saint-Sernin. 

The Count had need of a damned soul, and Binaldo 
dead, the Bohemian, without being too presumptuous, 
could aspire to that position. 

Quite a distance still separated Cyrano from Man- 
uel’s prison. 

By making good use of his time, he might neutral- 
ize the poet’s operations, and return defeat for defeat. 

Such were Ben- Joel’s thoughts as he rode beside 
Castilian; in order to undertake his new adventure, 
he must regain his liberty. 

It was of that he was thinking. 

Being cognizant of Cyrano’s intentions with regard 
to his visit to Colignac, he waited his opportunity un- 
til then and, during the first stages of the journey, 
tried to inspire in his custodians the greatest confidence 
in his submission. 

Castilian, not at all worried about him, and diverted 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 363 

by Marotte’s presence, thought he might relax his 
vigilance somewhat, and he relaxed so much, that on 
arriving at the borough of Colignac, the secretary and 
bandit appeared like two boon companions walking 
carelessly side by side. 

The halt was made at the Castle, where Colignac 
received Savinien and his suite with great pomp. 

Nothing was talked of in the town but the “sor- 
cerer’s” arrival; the strong-minded assembled once 
again at Landriot’s tavern, and M. Cadignan, fearing 
Cyrano’s vengeance, bolted his door and supplied his 
larder with provisions in case he should be able to sus- 
tain a siege. 

All alarm was vain. Cyrano had other thoughts 
than those of vengeance. 

Landriot’s friends were left to their conference, as 
was Cadignan to his precautions. Savinien passed 
through Colignac and by the jail without seeming to 
remember the events which had happened a few days 
before. 

When the gentlemen were settled in their apart- 
ments, Ben- Joël was given into the charge of the serv- 
ants of the Castle, to whom Colignac promised the 
halter if they let him escape. 

Castilian, relieved of all care, was able to enjoy 
Count de Colignac’s hospitality. He was given a seat 
at the table, near Marotte, whose charms had capti- 
vated the two lords, and who was the life of the party. 

Neither Cyrano nor Colignac were prejudiced 
against the nomadic race to which Marotte belonged. 

Moreover, if a woman was pretty, it required no 
more in their sight to endow her with the claim to no- 
bility. 


364 


Captain Satan, or, 

The Bohemian was in the pantry, in a small room 
which he could not leave without passing through the 
kitchen filled with people, and he was as safely im- 
mured as in an underground vault. 

As Cyrano did not intend to allow his prisoner to 
die of starvation, an excellent supper was served to 
Ben- Joël, of which the servants who guarded him, 
partook. 

When the dessert was brought in, when the wine 
had risen to their heads and made them lively, Ben- 
Joël undertook to win his custodians’ sympathy. 

He had, as they say, more than one sly trick in his 
sack. He juggled, he told witty stories, he enter- 
tained his audience, which, for a long time had not 
been to such a fete with slight-of-hand. 

Life was very monotonous in that old castle, at the 
extreme end of Languedoc, and Colignac’s servants 
were excusable for enjoying a little unexpected amuse- 
ment. 

They drank largely of it, and the steward, the oracle 
of the company, gravely declared that “ M. Ben- Joël ” 
could not be a bad man, having, as he had, the secret 
of making folks laugh so that they dispelled their 
spleen. 

“ Eh ! yes,” said the Bohemian, “ I do not know 
why M. de Bergerac suspects me. I am accompanying 
him to Paris to render him a slight service, and be- 
cause we have not always been good friends, he 
fancies that I wish to escape him.” 

“ I am sure you have not the least desire to ! ” said 
the steward, indulgently. 

“Hot the least. Moreover, I should be very foolish 
to wish to escape. They have given me a good horse, 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 365 

they have given me good food, and it does not cost 
me one cent. If I wished to escape from M. de 
Cyrano, I should do so at Paris. Until then, it is not 
so bad. I should lose too much.” 

“ He is right ! ” concluded the steward, evidently con- 
vinced by that logic. 

“Make yourself easy,” added Ben- Joël, smiling 
upon the assembly, “ I will not be the cause of your 
hanging.” 

The night was far advanced. 

“ Come,” advised the steward, “ M. de Cyrano in- 
tends to set out at daybreak. Even this treat must 
end ; we must retire.” 

“Are they going to leave me here?” asked the 
Bohemian. 

“ They are not so barbarous. You will sleep near 
me, in a small room adjoining mine, and I think that 
you will be wise and not seek to escape.” 

“ On my honor, I swear it ! ” said Ben- Joël, with 
extreme dignity, for a falsehood was nothing to him. 

“ Come, then.” 

The Bohemian followed his guide, and with him 
entered a suite of rooms, opening on the court of the 
castle, where the steward occupied three rooms. 

The first was a sort of vestibule at the end of 
which was a room communicating with the small 
room of which the confiding servant had spoken. 

The steward flung a mattress into that room, and 
said to Ben- J oël : 

“ You will not be very uncomfortable for one night. 
Good-night, my boy.” 

With those words, he retired, and Ben- Joël heard 
the sound of a key turning discreetly in the lock. 


366 


Captain Satan, or, 

He was locked in. His guardian’s faith in him had 
not been so great as to neglect that precaution. 

Instead of lying down as he had been told to, Ben- 
Joël seated himself on a stool and waited. 

Loud snoring coming from the other room soon told 
him that the steward was sound asleep. 

Then he approached the door and, by the aid of the 
lamp which had been left him, he carefully examined 
the lock. 

It was screwed on on his side, which caused him 
great satisfaction. 

He poured a little oil from the lamp on the screws, 
in order to render the delicate operation he was about 
to perform easier ; then, with great precaution and ex- 
traordinary dexterity, he commenced his work. 

His dagger with its short, stout blade, served him as 
a screw-driver. 

The sleeper’s snores grew louder and singularly 
favored the Bohemian’s venturesome task. 

The four screws holding the lock to the panel of the 
door soon yielded. 

Ben- Joël held his lamp near the keyhole. The key 
had been taken out. 

He breathed more freely. That simple detail, of 
which he had not thought at first, had made him 
uneasy for an instant, for it might render useless the 
expenditure of skill, by preventing him from taking 
off the lock altogether. 

The piece of iron, relieved of its screws and man- 
aged by Ben-Joël’s discreet hand, was softly removed 
from the wood to which it had been fastened. 

The Bohemian was free, — free at least to leave his 
cell. Before opening the door which would lead him 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 367 

into the steward’s room, he listened attentively. No 
sound reached his ear, except his neighbor’s snores, 
with which he was already familiar. 

Ben- Joël turned the door noiselessly on its hinges, 
crossed the room with stealthy tread, and reached the 
door of the vestibule. 

It was simply latched. The key was on the out- 
side. As a precautionary means, the Bohemian, once 
in the vestible, double-locked his host in and hastened 
into the court-of-honor. 

It was not alone necessary to get out of his cell, but 
it was also necessary to get out of the castle. 

The walls were high and overlooked moats full of 
water. Behind the structure was a garden protected 
in the same way. It was to that side Ben- Joël turned 
his steps, hoping to find an exit easily. 

The night was clear, and the moonlight made 
it as easy to distinguish objects as in broad day- 
light. 

Stealing cautiously along in the shadow of the 
trees, Ben- J oël reached the end of the garden. 

In the distance, before him, lay the fields, and a 
tiny river glistening like a silver mirror. 

Arrived at that point, he leaned forward to look 
into the moat and saw at a short distance a sluice 
perpendicular with the enclosing wall and consequently 
crossing the entire breadth of the moat. By reaching 
the first stone of the sluice, the fugitive, as nimble 
as a cat, could clear the dangerous passage with dry 
feet. 

But the great question was to reach that stone. 
There were no clefts in the wall, no rough places, no 
trees stretching their branches over the abyss. 


308 


Captain Satan, or, 

Ben- Joël measured with his eye the distance which 
separated him from the sluice. It was twenty-five 
feet at least, and our character thought too much of 
his bones to risk such a leap. He returned to the 
garden ; impatience and anxiety began to steal over 
him. 

Ben-Joël sought for and found what he needed. In 
one corner of the garden, along the parapet, his foot 
struck against a heap of pine, no doubt proceeding 
from a recent felling, for the bark was still fresh. 

The wood, intended for the use of the castle, was in 
its original length. It was, as they say in those parts, 
in “ shears,” or in rods. 

Ben- Joël measured one of the longest; it was 
almost fifteen feet long, three-fifths of the distance to 
be cleared. 

“ Diavolo ! ” said the Bohemian, finding himself dis- 
appointed thus, “ I believe I shall have trouble in get- 
ting out of here.” 

However, he lifted the pole he had selected and 
drew it to the centre of the allée. 

Then, he took another of similar length and tried to 
fasten it to the first one. For that he had neither 
ropes nor cramp-irons. Fortunately, he found in that 
unfrequented part of the garden, a sort of strong bind- 
weed. And having cut several sprigs which ran from 
one tree to the other and formed an inextricable net- 
work above his head, he tried to disentangle them and 
to tie them around the two poles put with two or three 
large branches of oak forming a sort of foundation in- 
dispensable to the solidity of the apparatus. 

The operation consumed more than two hours. 

When Ben- Joël finished it he stopped to take breath 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 309 

an instant, again lifted the two poles, leaned them 
against the parapet and bore his entire weight on the 
place where they were joined, in order to test their 
solidity. 

Satisfied with the trial, he rolled his improvised 
ladder to that part of the wall below which lay the 
stones of the sluice, let it down slowly and succeeded 
in placing the end of it in the muddy bottom of the 
moat in which it sunk more than three feet. 

The other end barely went beyond the top of the 
wall. 

Ben- Joel detached a stone from the parapet and in- 
serted the head of the pole in the gap in order to 
prevent the ladder from moving during the aërian 
flight he was about to attempt. 

Those precautions taken, he rushed at one bound 
upon the parapet, seized the pole with both hands and 
slid down to the moat, where he gained a foothold on 
the first stratum of the sluice. 

The sluice was made of oak planks, about six inches 
thick. 

The Bohemian, who, in order to escape, felt him- 
self at that moment capable of running against the 
edge of a sword, boldly went along the narrow way, 
crossed it, with arms outstretched like an acrobat on 
his rope, and reached the bank, safe and sound. 

He was certainly saved. 

He did not have an oholus in his pocket, but he 
cared not. Ben- Joël relied on his audacity and on 
chance to procure him all he lacked, with a view to his 
prompt return to Paris. 

Meanwhile daybreak had awakened the guests of 
the Lord of Colignac. 


3Ÿ0 Captain Satan, oi*, 

Savinien, who rose first, knocked at Castilian’s door 
and cried : 

“Ont of bed, lazy bones ! Go in search of the Bo- 
hemian. We must set ont.” 

The secretary had but a vague recollection of what 
had become of his prisoner and where he could find 
him. 

He questioned the servants to whose care Ben- J oel 
had been entrusted on the preceding eve : they pointed 
out to Castilian the steward’s lodgings. On reaching 
them, the young man heard low oaths in the vestibule. 

“ Ah ! the traitor ! the traitor ! ” cried Colignac’s 
servant ; “ he bewitched me, sure.” 

“ Open,” exclaimed Castilian. 

“ It is easy to say : open ; I am locked in. Free me.” 
The clerk turned the key in the lock, and the steward’s 
disconcerted face appeared in the frame of the door. 

“ The prisoner ? ” asked Sulpice. 

“Has gone, has vanished, sir. Ah! I am a lost 
man.” 

Cyrano’s and Colignac’s anger was terrible on learn- 
ing of Ben- Joel’s escape. 

All the servants in the castle mounted horses and 
rushed into the country in pursuit of the fugitive. 

The latter had anticipated the chase. 

Instead of running away, as a novice would not have 
failed to do, he went a distance of a league at the 
most and crouched down in some rushes not far from 
the road. 

An hour later, he saw pass, a cavalcade, at the head 
of which rode Savinien, Colignac and Sulpice, ac- 
companied by Marotte. 

The horses were going at a rapid pace. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 371 

“Very good,” said the Bohemian to himself, “there 
they go a hunting. They may go to the end of the 
world like that, if such be their pleasure.” 

Although hungry and wet, Ben- Joël waited a long 
time before deciding to leave his hiding-place. 

Finally, toward noon, the company of horsemen re- 
appeared, on the way to Chateau de Colignac. 

The nobleman was alone with his servants. 

“ Ah,” concluded the Bohemian, “ they have grown 
tired ; these are returning home, and the others have 
gone on to Paris. I can set out now.” 

He shook out his wet garments and began to walk 
rapidly in the tracks of Savinien and his suite. 

He did not intend to make the journey on foot. 
He hoped, at the first halt, to procure a horse and 
some money at any cost. 

At night, on leaving a hamlet in which he had been 
given a piece of rye bread and a glass of wine, with- 
out which he would have been unable to continue on 
his way, he met a horse dealer leading three teams of 
superb horses. 

“ How is my chance,” said Ben- Joël, who for a mo- 
ment had cherished the plan of a bold stroke, but who, 
nevertheless, preferred to have offered him that 
which he was disposed to take. 

“ Ha ! my friend ! ” he called to the horse dealer. 

“ What do you want ? ” asked the latter, stopping. 

“ Might one, without being impertinent, ask where 
you are going ? ” 

“ It is no secret, my good man. I am going direct 
to Paris.” 

“ To Paris ! I could not have hit it better.” 

« Why?” 


372 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Would you like me for a companion ? ” 

“ Ha ! ” cried the horse dealer, “ if you wish ; the 
road belongs to the public.” 

“ The road belongs to the public, yes ; but these 
horses are yours. Fine animals, my faith ! ” 

“ I think they are. They are for the King’s stables, 
my good fellow.” 

“ Supposing the King or the courtiers are to mount 
them, would it disgrace them to carry a poor devil 
like me?” 

“ Are you going to Paris ? ” 

“ Have I not told you so ? Besides, I am worn out 
with fatigue and I have not a cent in my purse. I 

might be of use to you on the way, if you would. 
» 

“ Indeed, I ask nothing better. My boy was taken 
ill on the road, and if you can take his place, I will 
give you several pistoles on reaching Paris.” 

Ben- Joel did not need to be told so twice. He be- 
strode one of the horses and the dealer saw at once 
by the manner in which the Bohemian managed his 
horse, that he had not misplaced his confidence. 

It was thus that Zilla’s brother was enabled to 
reach Paris, almost at the same time as Cyrano, — who 
was not more than a half-day in advance of him. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 313 


XXXVII. 

Having seen his attempt at poisoning fail, Roland 
de Lembrat sought the grand provost, Jean de La- 
mothe, and found him very busy. 

The preparation of Manuel’s case was nearing com- 
pletion, and the magistrate, who had studied the mi- 
nutest details, wished to review himself, one by one, 
every bit of paper. 

On seeing Roland enter, he rose and hastened to 
meet him. 

“ M. de Lamothe,” said the Count to him, “ pardon 
me for disturbing you in the midst of your grave 
work, but . . .” 

“ But,” interrupted the provost, uttering his visitor’s 
thought, “ you are impatient to know what is going 
on and you have come to ask me how matters stand.” 

“ Precisely. I am greatly interested in this case,” 
continued Roland, hypocritically, “not that I am 
looking for vengeance or simple satisfaction from it, 
but because it seems curious to me to see the real mo- 
tives of the strange fraud of which I have been the 
dupe, revealed.” 

“ If one were to believe the accused, there has been 
no fraud.” 

“ Does he still deny it ? ” cried Roland, with well- 
feigned astonishment. 

“He does. I have just examined him again.” 

“Well?” 

“ He insists that the name and title he assumed be- 


374 Captain Satan, or, 

long to him and he adds that you know it better than 
any one ! ” 

“I?” 

“Yes, sir. He even claims — it is unprecedented, 
but he claims — that, before the judges, he will furnish 
material proof of the truth of his words.” 

“ Material . . . proof ? ” murmured Roland, anx- 
iously. “ Of what is he speaking ? ” 

“ I do not know. He refused to explain himself.” 

“ What do you think it is ? ” 

“ I can think of nothing. One thing only struck 
me. During my other examinations, Manuel was sad, 
indeed, crushed. He replied to my questions with 
evident lassitude. To-day, he was truly changed ; he 
spoke in a firm voice, it almost seemed as if he be- 
lieved in his approaching victory. It puzzles me 
greatly.” 

“ Have you not, at your command, the means of 
penetrating the depths of his mind? The man is 
shrewd ; he is perhaps playing a bold part.” 

“There is no part which could hold its own before 
the formidable preparations of the law.” 

“ You think he will speak?” 

“Yes, in a few days. I have, I have already told 
you, the means of making him. The best of those 
means and the last, for I only use it in cases of obsti- 
nacy similar to his, is . . .” 

“Is?” 

“ Torture.” 

“ Truly,” said the Count, coldly, “ I had forgotten 
it.” 

Roland’s soul was filled with great satisfaction. 
Without having asked for it, he had obtained that for 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 375 

which he had come. He knew that in the torture 
chamber, the courage of the strongest had its mo- 
ments of weakness, and he relied on the cruelty of 
the torture to draw from Manuel the confession of his 
guilt and to assure his final ruin. 

“ À propos” asked the provost, suddenly, “ did you 
not send some one to Manuel ? ” 

“ I sent a man with food for the prisoner. In spite 
of myself, this Manuel interests me, and I tried to 
make his situation more bearable,” explained the 
Count, boldly. 

“ You are truly very kind ; with such natures, there 
is no need of so much commiseration.” 

“ Did he tell you of it ? ” asked Binaldo, not with- 
out some perplexity. 

“Ho ! it was the jailer.” 

The Count felt reassured. 

“ I took pains,” he continued, “ to bid my messenger 
not to tell who had sent him. Manuel, it appears, 
was suspicious of him, for he refused to receive him 
again.” 

“ Yes,” murmured the provost, thoughtfully, “and 
certain words made me think that the new hope to 
which the prisoner seemed to cling might have some 
connection with that visit.” 

Again, Count de Lembrat was troubled. Then he 
reflected that his position relative to the prisoner, the 
superiority which an accusation justified up to that 
time by facts, would give him, would put him be- 
yond all suspicion and all fear. 

He took leave of the grand provost without urging 
him any further, and repaired to the house of Marquis 
de Faventines, 


376 


Captain Satan, or, 

After Manuel’s arrest, Gilberte had submitted to 
the restraint imposed upon her by her father. 

Nothing having occurred to enlighten her on the 
subject of Manuel’s innocence, she had not dared be- 
lieve in a result favorable to her love. 

For the second time, she had fallen from the pinna- 
cle of her dreams. 

Manuel was a gypsy ; the young girl was prohibited 
from thinking of him. 

But could she govern her heart, which drew her 
irresistibly toward the young man, could she turn her 
mind, always filled with thoughts of him, in another 
direction ? 

No! Gilberte loved and she had no longer the 
strength to resist that love, of which, notwithstanding 
all, she could not believe Manuel unworthy. 

During the few days in which a fleeting piece of 
good fortune had permitted the young man to live 
near Gilberte, to speak to him as to her equal, she had 
been able to appreciate the delicacy of his feeling and 
the value of his mind. 

In losing his position in the world, he had not lost 
his prestige in Mlle, de Faventines’ eyes. 

When free, he had captivated her ; when a prisoner, 
he had blinded her, having about his head the aureole 
of unmerited misfortune. 

She had, for lack of other proofs, the intuition of 
Manuel’s innocence. She would gladly allow the ob- 
scurity of his birth, but not the disloyalty of his 
character. And willingly she believed that he was 
the victim rather than the culprit. 

That truth, she felt within her, together with the 
regret of not being able to prove it by facts. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 377 

It will not surprise our readers, that Gilberte, while 
confessing her impotence to save Manuel, had taken a 
firm resolution on the subject of her marriage with 
Boland. 

She did not desire to wed the Count. 

With the power of inertness possessed to a supreme 
degree by certain temperaments, she suffered to go on 
around her all the plans and all the hopes relative to 
her union, indifferent herself to that which she knew 
would never be consummated. 

Having resolved to escape Boland’s grasp, even 
should she have to take extreme measures, she allowed 
him to come to Hôtel de Faventines, listened patiently 
to his protestations of love, and left him, without 
breach of etiquette, to lock herself in her room and 
abandon herself to sweet though sad memories. 

While accepting the duties of a situation which her 
father’s inflexible will had brought about, Gilberte, 
honest above all things, did not wish to have him 
believe in the complete surrender of her will. 

Each time the Marquis spoke to her of her ap- 
proaching union, she replied simply : 

“I shall never become M. Boland de Lembrat’s 
wife.” 

Her father was frequently irritated by the reply. 
Then, gradually, he became used to it, and looked 
upon it as the result of rebellion, which he would be 
easily able to overcome at the last moment. 

Boland arrived at Hôtel de Faventines in such a 
mood that Gilberte could at once see the imminence 
of a struggle. 

On arriving at his fiancee's, Boland found Gilberte’s 
father and mother alone. 


378 


Captain Satan, or, 

Entangled in a series of complications he had given 
rise to himself, but the results of which he was not yet 
sure of turning to his account, the Count wished at 
least to assure himself of the possession of Gilberte. 

He loved the maiden with a passion which obstacles 
redoubled. 

He desired her in spite of herself and in spite of 
all things, and his passionate blood did not permit him 
to reflect on the state of Gilberte’s feelings. 

When he was ushered into the presence of the 
Marquis and of Mme. de Faventines, having in- 
quired for their daughter’s health, for she was not 
there, he frankly broached the subject. 

“Marquis,” said he, “while regretting that I am 
not able to greet Mile. Gilberte, I am pleased to 
find an opportunity of putting before you my hopes 
and my desires. I have had your promise for a long 
time. When will you permit me to claim the fulfil- 
ment of it ? ” 

“My dear Count,” replied the old Marquis, “you 
know that I am at your service. If the date of your 
marriage has not yet been set, it is because recent 
events have troubled Gilberte as well as ourselves, 
and have turned us away from what, believe me, is 
our dearest thought.” 

“I believe that the memory of the unfortunate 
event to which you allude, is beginning to be effaced 
from your mind, M. de Faventines, and it should no 
longer prove a hindrance to my happiness.” 

“ I have never considered that memory an obstacle. 
The shock, the trouble caused us by the arrest of your 
brother, pardon me, of this Manuel, I should say, are 
entirely dissipated to-day. Let us, therefore, talk, if 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 379 

you wish, of the union which you honor us by so 
ardently desiring. 

“But, tell me,” the Marquis interrupted himself, 
“ do you know what has become of Cyrano ? ” 

“ I do not.” 

“You are, however, on excellent terms with him?” 

“Not exactly. Nevertheless, I am quite anxious as 
to his movements,” said Koland, with a smile of 
double meaning. “ I do not know where he is, but I 
know that he has left Paris.” 

“ For long ? ” 

“Bergerac is adventurous and would probably be 
unable to foresee himself the end or the result of his 
trip,” continued Koland, in the same tone. 

“ He is greatly interested in your ... in Man- 
uel,” corrected the Marquis for the second time, de- 
cidedly, little prone to forget that he had known 
Yiscount Ludovic de Lembrat. 

“ Yes, very greatly.” 

“ Why has he forsaken him thus ? ” 

“Cyrano has some amour-propre. He does not 
want to avow that he has upheld an impostor, and 
perhaps he has deemed it wise to remain in retirement 
until the law shall have relieved him of his protégé.” 

“ It must be so, I can see no better explanation to 
give for his departure.” 

“ Let us forget Bergerac, M. de Faventines, and as 
you said just now, let us talk of my marriage. Our 
conversation will be brief on that point. There only 
remains for us to fix a date.” 

“ I will consult Gilberte.” 

“Oh! Young girls are never in a hurry in such 
cases. The decision must be made for them. In two 


380 Captain Satan, or, 

weeks, if yon wish it, sir, I will become your son-in- 
law.” 

For an instant the Marquis looked at his wife, who, 
absorbed in a piece of tapestry, had taken no part in 
the discussion, and seeing no sign of opposition on 
Madame de Faventines’ face, he replied : 

“ Yery well, my dear Count, in two weeks.” 

As he spoke, he extended his hand to Koland, who 
pressed it with energy. 

He was undoubtedly about to add some words of 
gratitude, when Gilberte appeared. 

Her recent trouble had greatly changed her. Her 
face, pale from wakefulness, was longer, and her eyes 
sparkled with extraordinary and disquieting brilliance. 

In their glance which she sought vainly to hide 
beneath the shadow of her long lashes, could be read 
excitement with difficulty suppressed, a sort of inde- 
finable menace, which, however, up to that time 
neither her father nor her mother, accustomed to see- 
ing her daily, had noticed. 

Koland alone remarked the change in Gilberte’s 
face. 

She seemed to him more beautiful still, and more 
than ever did he long for the moment when he would 
become the master of that treasure. 

Gilberte advanced with an automatic step to the 
centre of the salon , and returned the Count’s saluta- 
tion, without for a moment losing the rigidity of 
marble. 

“Have you been ill, Mademoiselle?” Koland de 
Lembrat ventured to inquire. 

His betrothed looked at him coldly. 

“ H o ? sir ? ” she murmured. “ Why that question ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 381 

“ I thought they told me,” . . . stammered Bo- 

land, disconcerted by her glance in which there was 
more than indifference, possibly hatred. 

“ Those around me are easily rendered anxious,” 
continued Gilberte, in the same clear and icy tone. 
“ Whatsoever they may have told you, rest assured, 
sir, I have not been, I am not ill.” 

She passed on and seated herself near Mme. de 
Faventines. 

Boland remained until curfew, but Gilberte did not 
add one word to those she had just spoken. The 
Marchioness, likewise silent, looked furtively at her. 
Gilberte seemed calm ; she was working busily on a 
piece of her mother’s tapestry, and listened, without 
appearing interested, to the conversation between Bo- 
land and the Marquis. 

That conversation, having exhausted ordinary topics, 
turned upon the subject which the two men would 
have gladly avoided, but which, almost fatally, at- 
tracted them. 

They talked of Manuel. 

Gilberte thus learned that M. de Lamothe had that 
very day examined him she loved, and that he re- 
mained firm in his intentions. 

The prisoner’s attitude, which greatly vexed the 
Marquis, seemed to Gilberte to conform wholly with 
the idea she had always entertained of Manuel’s char- 
acter. 

She felt proud of his love, and her thoughts reverted 
to the cell in which she had buried all her hopes and 
all her girlish dreams. 

When the Count had left, M. de Faventines drew 
near Gilberte and said to her ; 


382 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ My child, we talked of yon a great deal this even- 
ing with Count de Lembrat. He besought me to 
make a formal decision in his favor, and I yielded to 
his entreaties.” 

“ Go on, father,” replied Gilberte, seeing that the 
Marquis expected an objection, or at least a question- 

“ It has been settled,” continued the Marquis, “ that 
your marriage take place in two weeks.” 

“ That is a well-determined plan ; is it your absolute 
wish ? ” 

“ Have I not told you so already ? ” 

“ And, father, have I not already told you that I 
should never become M. de Lembrat’s wife ? ” 

“ It is a whim in which I do not wish to believe. 
This marriage is necessary, Gilberte. It is an honor 
for us ; let me add that it will be fortunate for you, 
and do not cause me the sorrow of a resistance at 
which I could not stop.” 

“ Is that final ? ” 

“It is final,” replied the Marquis, knitting his 
brows. 

“May God preserve you, father,” concluded the 
maiden, bowing before the old man. 

Then, having embraced her mother, she withdrew 
to her room, dismissed Paquette, who was waiting to 
undress her, and opened her window in order to inhale 
the night air. 

Before her were outlined the dark shadows of the 
buildings on the quay ; a few yards off, almost beneath 
the window on which she was leaning, rolled the deep 
waters of the Seine, with their melancholy murmur. 

“No, not that ; it is horrible ! ” murmured the girl, 
leaving the window. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 383 

On reaching the middle of the room, she paused, 
grew suddenly pensive, and the name of Zilla crossed 
her lips almost mechanically. 

Her feverish eyes sparkled with a new light. Gil- 
berte had no doubt found what she was seeking. 


384 


Captain Satan, or, 


XXXVIII. 

After the first attacks of the illness which had 
laid her low, Zilla had rallied contrary to expectation, 
owing rather to the energy of her nature than to the 
resources of science, — at that epoch very limited. 

She could not yet leave her room, she had scarcely 
strength enough to leave her bed, but reason had re- 
turned. 

The tempest which had raged in her brain gradu- 
ally subsided, as does the ocean, to all appearances 
exhausted from its own violence ; she felt revived 
within her the power of action so fatally crushed at 
the moment when she had hoped to make use of it in 
the interest of Manuel. 

Her memory was again clear, and she thought with 
profound anguish that many hours had passed since 
the moment when she had essayed to reach the cap- 
tive in order to snatch him from death. 

She asked for her brother. Manuel had not re- 
turned. Then, having no means of direct enlighten- 
ment, she feared to ask any questions. Voluntarily, 
she remained ignorant of the young man’s fate. 

“ Manuel is dead.” 

Such was the phrase which rang incessantly in her 
ears and which she feared to hear pronounced any 
morning by the old portress, the only person who 
came near her. 

With what impatience did she await the time of 
convalescence ! 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 385 

She once* thought of sending her nurse to the chât- 
elet and of charging her with a message for Johann 
Müller. But the shrew’s ability was doubtful, and 
Zilla gave up her plan. 

An incident which she had not foreseen soon 
brought her information as to Manuel’s fate. 

On the day after that on which Gilberte, apparently 
resigned, had bowed to her father’s will, Zilla, alone 
and sad in her lodging, was thinking of her brother 
and of Manuel, of her brother for whom she had no 
regard, but whose support would have been a great 
help to her in that circumstance, of Manuel, whom 
in her solitary waiting, she still liked to think living 
and whom, in the near future, she saw at liberty. 

Zilla, like all women in love, was superstitious. 
Moreover, she had been reared in the custom of cer- 
tain practices in which the gypsies did not always be- 
lieve, but which had always served them to exercise 
an ascendant over impressionable or naïve minds. 
She had read a large number of books on sorcery, and 
occasionally chance had given a semblance of truth to 
the horoscopes cast by the gypsy, by reason of the 
science acquired in those books. 

On that especial evening, her mind was singularly 
disposed to things marvelous. While dreaming of 
Manuel’s and of her own destiny, she said to herself : 

“Who will raise the veil of the future? If that 
science of divination taught me was not a tissue of 
lies, I could read the mystery.” 

She rose with difficulty, went into a corner and 
placed on her table a large crystal goblet, which she 
filled with water. 

Then she moved her lamp away, placed in front of 


386 


Captain Satan, or, 

the cup a silver mirror, before which she lighted a 
wick dipped in sulphur. 

The bluish light of the sulphur, reflected by the 
mirror, at once colored the water contained in the 
crystal. 

Zilla watched the play of the light closely. 

Suddenly it went out. 

The fortune-teller started. 

“ Ah ! ” she murmured, “ blood, blood and darkness ! 
The life of a human being goes out like the flame re- 
flected by this mirror, after having shone like it. Is it 
Manuel who is to die ? Is it I ? ” 

A low rap was heard at the door, which opened at 
once, and Zilla in the semi-obscurity of the apartment 
saw a masked woman. Behind her was a man, no 
doubt a confidential servant, who maintained a respect- 
ful attitude. 

Before addressing a word to Zilla, the stranger 
turned toward the man and said to him : 

“Watch the door, my good Guillaume, and let no 
one enter as long as I am here.” 

Guillaume disappeared and the two women were 
left alone. 

“Your name is Zilla, I believe?” the visitor in- 
quired of the gypsy. 

“ Yes, Madame. What do you wish ? ” 

“ I will tell you. Swear to me first to respect the 
secret of my visit.” 

“ Have I any need to make that vow ? I do not 
know you.” 

“ It matters not ! That which is about to take 
place here must remain between us.” 

“Very well. I swear that I will not betray you.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 387 

The masked woman then noticed that Zilla was ex- 
ceedingly pale and found it difficult to stand. 

“ You are ill ! ” said she. “ Sit down.” 

Zilla sank upon her bed, where she remained seated, 
while her visitor stood beside her. 

“ Zilla,” the lady commenced, “ you make a profes- 
sion of reading the fate of men in the lines of their 
hands, and occasionally you sing on the cross-ways 
with your companions ? ” 

“ Those who have spoken to you of me, know me 
well, Madame.” 

The stranger seemed to hesitate, then she resumed : 

“But that is not all, is it? You have other tal- 
ents ? ” 

“ Not any. Why that question ? ” 

“ You do not understand me. Must I explain my- 
self better ? Has not your race the privilege of mys- 
terious practices, of terrible formulas, unknown to the 
multitude? Have you not yourself, inherited from 
your fathers one of those vital secrets ? ” 

Zilla tried to read the stranger’s eyes, for the mask 
would not permit her to study her face. 

“ A love-philter ! ” said she, “ perhaps that is what 
you want ? ” 

“No ! ” said the stranger, shaking her head with a 
sort of nervous impatience. 

“ Then, it is ? . . .” 

It was Z ilia’s turn to hesitate. 

“ Do you fear to guess or to be told ? ” murmured 
the masked woman. 

She leaned toward the fortune-teller and spoke to 
her in a low voice. 

“ Poison ! ” cried Zilla, “you ask for poison ? ” 


388 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Be silent, since that word terrifies you.” 

“ No, not the word, the fact ! I cannot lend my 
hand to a crime.” 

“ Have I told you that there is any question of a 
crime ? ” asked the visitor, in a haughty tone. 

“ Can I not imagine it, Madame ? ” 

“ Best assured,” said she, bitterly, who was cross- 
examined thus, “ if any one is to die from the poison, 
it is I alone.” 

“You wish to die, you, young, rich, beloved, no 
doubt ! ” 

“ What matters it to you ? I do not ask your pity. 
A day will come, — soon, perhaps, — when I shall have 
no other refuge from my fate than death. That death 
I wish to meet to suit myself. The black waters of 
the Seine which flows beneath my windows inspire me 
with horror ; cold steel penetrating to my heart terri- 
fies me ; I want a poison that will put me to sleep or 
that will kill me ! ” 

Zilla rose, saying : 

“ There is madness in your words, Madame. Give 
me your hand.” 

The stranger obeyed. 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Zilla, having examined the dainty 
white hand held out toward hers without hesitation, 
“ those lines . . . are familiar to me. . . . Love ! 
. . . deception !... a struggle ! triumph or 

death ! 

“ I remember,” she concluded, recoiling with an ex- 
clamation : “ you are Gilberte de Faventines ! ” 

“ Who has told you so ? ” murmured the stranger, in 
a disconcerted voice. 

“ Kemove your mask,” continued Zilla. “ It is use- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 889 

less now. I have read those words of your destiny in 
your hand before now ... at your father’s house 
. . . I have recognized you by them.” 

Zilla’s instinct had not deceived her. It was indeed 
to Gilberte de Faventines she was speaking. 

The girl took off her mask, and her face was lighted 
up by energetic resolution. 

“ Since you know me,” said she, “ give me what I ask 
of you, for perhaps you know also why I wish to die.” 

The gypsy’s eye flashed, and in a slow voice she 
asked : 

“ Then you love him, too ? ” 

“ I ! Of whom are you speaking ? ” 

“ Of Manuel ! Of Manuel whom I loved, whom you 
have taken from me, and whose ruin you have thus 
caused.” 

“Unhappy woman ! ” 

The two young girls gazed at each other an instant. 
There was defiance in their attitude; indignation, 
aroused by the gypsy’s words, inspired Gilberte, while 
Zilla felt all the wounds in her heart reopen, and her 
passionate jealousy revive. 

Morally stronger than Gilberte, Zilla speedily con- 
quered her anger, and seeing the situation in a new 
light, she asked : 

“ Is Manuel still living ? ” 

“ He is,” replied Gilberte. “ Do you not know it ? ” 

An indefinable beam of joy lighted up Zilla’s counte- 
nance. 

At first, on finding herself in the presence of her 
beautiful rival, she had thought only of her unrecog- 
nized love, forgetting to ask herself if, as she had 
cause to fear, her passion was not now aimless. 


390 


Captain Satan, or, 

Her presence of mind had been regained soon enough 
so that before all she might gain information of Manuel ! 

Reassured by Mademoiselle de Faventines’ reply, the 
soothsayer again yielded to the promptings of her pas- 
sionate nature. 

“ You love him ! ” she repeated. 

Gilberte raised her head. 

“ If I did not love him, would I be here ? ” she con- 
fessed, frankly. “ Of what use is it to hide the secret 
from you, since I have put myself entirely in your 
hands ! My father wishes me to marry Count de 
Lembrat. I hate the man and I scorn him. If they 
persist in their determination to make me marry him, 
I shall await the time with resignation, for, before 
touching the Count’s hand, before hearing the priest’s 
benediction, I shall be dead.” 

“ Will you really persevere in your resolution ? ” 

“ More than ever ! ” 

“ And you still rely upon me to serve you ? ” 

“ Why not ? ” asked Gilberte, in a singular tone. 

The meaning hidden beneath those two simple words 
did not escape Zilla. 

Mlle, de Faventines, believing that she could not win 
Zilla over with money, seemed to say to her, by her 
manner, her glance, her accent : 

“ You hate me, for I have taken Manuel’s love from 
you. If Manuel should some day be free, he will come 
to me, not to you. Give me the weapon I ask of you. 
When I am once dead, no one else will be able to con- 
tend with you for him for whom I am sacrificing my- 
self.” 

Those words, which Gilberte’s lips, however, had 
not yet uttered, rang out clearly in Zilla’s soul. An 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 391 

evil spirit repeated them to her incessantly, and she 
felt her conscience weakening in the face of those per- 
fidious insinuations. 

She saw her love triumphant over Gilberte’s ; she 
saw the road free between her and Manuel. 

For that, it would require but one drop of poison, 
and that poison she could pour out herself, without 
any other crime than that of a kindness, for which 
her selfishness furnished her with a ready excuse. 

As she remained absorbed in meditation, struggling 
against the temptation by which she felt her every# 
fibre invaded, Gilberte laid her hand on hers. 

The mute inquiry aroused the gypsy from her 
reverie. 

Her last scruple vanished, the demon of jealousy 
wholly possessed her. 

Coldly, she turned toward Gilberte and replied : 

“ You are right, Mademoiselle.” 

Then, opening a box near her, she took from it a 
necklace of amber beads, which she offered to her, 
saying : 

“ Take this necklace, it is yours.” 

“ How ? ” asked Gilberte, with indecision. 

“Those are amber beads,” explained the gypsy; 
“this one which hangs beside the silver amulet, is 
similar to the others in appearance, and yet. . . .” 

“ Give it to me, I understand,” cried Gilberte, fever- 
ishly ; “ the bead is poisoned ! ” 

“It will dissolve in water without leaving any 
traces and will cause death in a few instants without 
suffering and without agony.” 

“ Thanks, Zilla, you have understood me. If I 
should die, do not reproach yourself. Blame fate 


392 


Captain Satan, or, 

alone. And if Manuel returns your affection, be 
happy ; speak to him sometimes of me. No one is 
jealous of the dead.” 

Those words, uttered in a slightly unsteady voice, 
caused the veil stretched over Zilla’s eyes to fall. 

She realized the horror of the action she was about 
to commit ; she was ashamed of herself and, rushing 
toward the girl, she cried : 

“ Ah ! see, I am mad ! Give me back the necklace, 
give it me back ! ” 

“ No, Zilla ! To return it to you, would not be to 
give up my wish, it would condemn me to a death 
more painful and slower. Au revoir , Zilla ; I trust in 
God.” 

“ You must not go.” 

And the gypsy, exhausted by the scene which 
caused her fever, scarcely abated, to rise again, never- 
theless found strength enough to prevent the maiden 
from going out. 

She cast herself at Gilberte’s knees and, clinging to 
them with her arms, she murmured : 

“Ah! Mademoiselle, you are better than I and 
more worthy of being loved. On losing Manuel, you 
thought of death ! I thought only of vengeance. 
Pardon me and live.” 

“ Rise, Zilla, and give me your hand. A common 
sorrow has made us sisters, but do not hope to move 
me. You have given me a precious treasure which 
will bring me rest, and I shall keep it ! ” 

“When is your marriage to take place?” asked 
Zilla, abruptly. 

“ In two weeks.” 

“ Is M. de Cyrano in Paris ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 393 

“ I do not know. Why all these questions ? ” 

“ Because I have enough sins to expiate, because I 
am weary of the shameful rôle I have hitherto played, 
because I wish to save you and to give you back 
Manuel ! ” 

“ You ! ” 

“ Am I not the cause of his ruin ? ” 

“ Well?” 

“ You have heard speak of the book containing the 
record of Manuel’s life ? ” 

“Well?” 

“ The book, stolen from Count Boland, as well as 
from M. de Cyrano, is in my possession ; I have the 
care of it.” 

“ Your brother ? ” 

“ My brother is not to be feared ; he is far from 
here ; besides, what could he do in the face of that 
proof and of my confession? The confession was 
kept in the depths of my conscience by a cowardly 
hope. Now, I shall speak.” 

“You will not be believed. M. de Lamothe is too 
well armed against Manuel.” 

“ I will show the book.” 

“ It will not be accepted as true. We women, Zilla, 
are not strong minded enough to combat the argu- 
ments of a magistrate as firm in his conviction as the 
grand provost seems to be. It requires a man’s hand 
to guide the enterprise you meditate through so many 
obstacles.” 

“ A man ? One alone could serve us, and you say 
he is not in Paris.” 

“ M. de Bergerac ? ” 

“ The same.” 


394 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Perhaps he has returned.” 

And hastening to the door, Gilberte called the serv- 
ant who was awaiting her. 

“ Guillaume,” she commanded, “ go to M. de Ber- 
gerac’s lodgings and find out if he has returned. Be 
discreet and prompt, above all things. Go ; you will 
find me here.” 

The distance which separated the House of Cyclops 
from the inn at which Cyrano lived, was not great. 
While Guillaume hastened to Master Gonin’s Avith a 
step as nimble as that of a young man, the tAvo 
women talked of their plans. 

Zilla did not assist in awakening Gilberte’s hopes, 
without secret and poignant sorrow. 

She had, however, courageously taken her resolution 
and put back into the depths of her soul all the bitter 
thoughts with which her sacrifice could inspire her. 

Gilberte suspected the struggle and dared not talk 
too much of the past. 

She would have liked to knoAv, though, hoAV the 
plan Avhieh resulted in Manuel’s arrest had originated 
and what part Count Boland had taken in it. 

Guillaume’s return put an end to her indecision. 

“M. de Bergerac is not in Paris,” said Mlle, de 
Faventines’ messenger, “nor do they know Avhen he 
will return.” 

“Well,” said Gilberte, sadly, “ God is not for us.” 

“I will go to M. de Cyrano’s house to-morrow,” 
concluded Zilla. “ Perhaps I shall be more fortu- 
nate.” 

“ Will you have the strength ? You are still ill.” 

“ I Avili conquer my disease ; it has kept me a pris- 
oner in this room for too many days now.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 395 

“ Shall I receive news of you ? ” 

“ Through M. de Cyrano, if I see him. As for you, 
mademoiselle,” she added, in a lower voice, “ consent 
now to that which you just refused me. Give me 
back the necklace.” 

“ No, Zilla. Our hope may be but a chimera, and I 
wish to be armed.” 

“ I shall succeed, I tell you. I have a presentiment 
of it.” 

“ In that case, you have nothing to fear for me.” 

“ You will never have need to make use of the 
formidable gift I have made you,” persisted Zilla. 

“ Who knows ? ” murmured Gilberte, pensively. 

Having, with a determined gesture, indicated that 
she would not yield, the maiden bade the gypsy a 
hurried farewell and left the room, accompanied by 
Guillaume. 

The latter, an old servant of the de Faventines 
family, accustomed to blindly respect his mistress’ 
orders, reconducted her to her home. 

Arrived there, and bidding her protector . be dis- 
creet, although she felt sure of his prudence, Gilberte 
reaçhed her room without attracting attention, and 
for the first time in many nights, she slept peacefully. 


396 


Captain Satan, or, 


XXXIX. 

Zilla did not sleep. As after all great physical or 
mental shocks, her mind, deeply agitated, had con- 
demned her to painful wakefulness, interrupted by a 
few moment of semi-drowsiness more cruel even than 
insomnia. 

When day broke, the time seemed to her to drag 
less slowly, and she tried to walk around her room. 

Her still aching limbs moved as if worked by a 
nervous spring. 

nevertheless, she dressed herself, took the book 
from the hiding-place in which Ben- Joël had put it, 
and slowly descended the stairs leading to the lower 
floor. 

In the parlor, she met the portress, who uttered an 
exclamation of astonishment on seeing her. 

“ Are. you going out, Zilla ? ” she asked. 

“ Yes,” replied the gypsy, curtly. 

“ But, my girl, you are as pale as a corpse. You 
will faint. by the wayside.” 

“No!” replied Zilla, still laconically. 

And she went on, while the old woman shrugged 
her shoulders with an air of pity, murmuring : 

“ After all, it is her business.” 

The air revived the convalescent. She turned her 
steps toward Cyrano’s house, and, on reaching it, she 
saw the innkeeper engaged in a very animated con- 
versation with the poet’s servant. 

The tavern wore its usual aspect. At that early 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 397 

hour, no customer had yet crossed the threshold, for 
the tables were empty and the pewter tankards were 
symmetrically arranged in rows on the dressers. 
There is, almost always in any house to which a new 
guest is coming, or an acquaintance returns, a certain 
air of disorder, which is betrayed in the most trifling 
things. 

At first sight, Cyrano’s lodgings did not show any 
of those signs. 

However, notwithstanding the excellent order in 
the coffee-room, where nothing seemed to have been 
disturbed since the preceding night, the travelers, that 
is to say, Savinien, Castilian and Marotte, had arrived. 

All three, worn out by their long journey, were 
still sleeping soundly. 

It was Marotte’s arrival which formed the subject 
of the innkeeper’s and Cyrano’s servant’s conversa- 
tion. The latter had been obliged to give her room 
to the dancer and was not a little vexed at the pretty 
demon’s invasion of her premises. 

Zilla questioned the innkeeper and did not seek to 
hide her satisfaction when she heard of Cyrano’s re- 
turn. 

“ Can I speak to M. de Bergerac at once ? ” she in- 
quired of Master Gonin. 

“ I will see,” replied the latter. “ It is now nine 
o’clock, and, even when he has been up half of the 
night, M. de Cyrano is not in the habit of waking 
earlier.” 

He invited Zilla to enter and hastily mounted the 
staircase leading to the first floor. 

The servant, on the arrival of the gypsy, walked 
away in the direction of porte de Hesle. 


398 


Captain Satan, or, 

Zilla was therefore left alone for a moment in the 
coffee-room ; at the end of that time, Master Gonin’s 
voice called to her from the head of the staircase : 

“ Come up ! ” 

She obeyed with alacrity, and the innkeeper, allow- 
ing her to pass before him, pointed out the poet’s door 
to her, adding : 

“ Go in ; you are awaited.” 

Zilla approached the poet, who was seated at the 
other end of the room, busily writing. 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” cried Cyrano, “ is it you, my dear ? 
You are giving me an agreeable surprise by this visit, 
for I thought you were angry with me for good.” 

Without seeming to have noticed the ironical accent 
with which those words were uttered, Zilla replied : 

“ A grave reason has brought me here, M. Cyrano. 
Will you listen to me ? ” 

“ I am all ears. Have you, perchance, come to ask 
me for news of your excellent brother ? ” 

“ My brother ? ” 

“ It was not owing to my lack of good will that I 
did not bring him to Paris with me. He escaped 
from my care ; but you may rest assured that some 
day or other I shall be able to reward him according 
to his merits.” 

“ I did not come about my brother,” interpolated 
Zilla, who was evidently growing impatient at the 
poet’s wit ; “ I came about Manuel.” 

“ Ah ! about Manuel ! Poor boy, I would be de- 
lighted to embrace him ! ” 

Then the gypsy explained herself. She told of her 
love, of her jealousy, of her struggles, and finally she 
implored Cyrano’s pardon. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 399 

Savinien forgave readily. 

“ Ah ! ” said he to Zilla, “ I ask nothing better than 
to believe you. The confession you have just made to 
me redeems your faults, and if you are sincere . . .” 

“ Do you desire a proof of it ? ” interrupted the 

gypsy- 

“ A proof ! ” repeated Cyrano, puzzled. 

Zilla took from under her wraps the book with 
which she had armed herself, and without a word 
placed it before the poet. 

It was a large volume of parchment ; roughly but 
firmly bound, the first pages of which bore a very an- 
cient date. 

It was written entirely in the Eomany tongue. 
Cyrano opened it with the tip of his finger and curi- 
ously examined the odd characters with which almost 
all the leaves were covered. 

“ What is this scrawl ? ” he asked. 

“ You should know ; you should guess, at least.” 

“ Ben-Joël’s book ? ” 

« Yes!” 

“ At last ! ” cried Cyrano, “ here is then, the famous 
testimony, which that arch-knave has hidden so adroitly 
from us. Truly, Zilla, your action has reconciled me 
with you. Where is the passage which refers to Man- 
uel and young Simon’s death ? ” 

Zilla turned the pages of the book for an instant 
and translated for Cyrano the two inscriptions he 
desired to know. 

“ That is perfect,” said he ; “ if I did not now have 
in my possession still surer weapons, this book would 
be an undeniable treasure. Are you certain of the 
meaning you give to those lines ? ” 


400 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ Send for some one of my race ; show him the 
pages. If he or she whom you consult is familiar 
with the language of his or her fathers, the transla- 
tion will be the same.” 

“I believe you. Go in peace, my child; Manuel 
will be free to-morrow morning.” 

“ Why not to-day ? ” 

“ Because to-day I must see Count de Lembrat, and 
spare him, not for himself, but for the sake of the name 
he has the honor of bearing, the scandal of a public 
exposure. If he persists in his resistance, well, so 
much the worse for him. I shall have done my duty 
by his father’s memory.” 

“ Adieu, M. de Cyrano, I have faith in you.” 

The poet rose and escorted the gypsy as far as the 
door. 

Then he summoned Marotte. 

The dancer, still sleepy, arrived ten minutes later. 
Cyrano took Ben- Joel’s book, and, putting his finger 
on the passage pointed out by Zilla, he said : 

“ Tell me the meaning of this.” 

Marotte read and translated the lines pointed out to 
her without hesitation. 

Her version agreed almost word for word with that 
of Zilla. Cyrano closed the book and added with a 
smile : 

“ That is good. Thanks, my girl.” 

Shortly afterward, Master Gonin saw the poet go 
downstairs. Castilian was in the dining-room, eating 
his breakfast. 

“ I am going to the Count’s house,” his master said 
to him. “ Do not go out before my return, and see 
that jour protégée wants for nothing.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 40l 

“ You may rest assured of that,” the secretary has- 
tened to reply, with a fervor which brought a roguish 
smile to Cyrano’s lips. 

When the poet reached Hôtel de Lembrat, where, 
owing to the lateness of the hour, he hoped to meet 
Roland, he learned, to his astonishment, that the latter 
had already gone out. 

“ Where shall I find him ? ” asked Cyrano. 

“ Probably at the house of Marquis de Faventines,” 
was the reply. 

Savinien turned in the direction indicated ; he did 
not want to lose any time. 

Roland was indeed with the Marquis ; Gilberte and 
her mother were likewise in the drawing-room. 

When Cyrano was announced, the Count turned ex- 
ceedingly pale, while Gilberte could scarcely restrain 
an exclamation of surprise and of joy. 

The visitor advanced, a smile upon his lips, and 
having greeted the two ladies and shaken the Marquis’ 
hand, he turned, still more smiling than ever, to Ro- 
land de Lembrat. 

“ Well,” said he, “you did not expect me, my excel- 
lent friend ? ” 

“ I am happy to see you in good health,” stammered 
Roland, scarcely conscious of what he was saying. 

“Does my health interest you so greatly? You 
are truly too kind. But, no doubt, you are not a little 
anxious to hear the details of my trip, and, if you wish 
it, I will narrate them to you.” 

“ Here ? ” ventured Roland, anxiously. 

“ Ho ; it would bore these ladies.” 

“ I cannot,” again ventured the Count, “ grant you 
the interview you propose just at present.” 


402 Captain Satan, oi*, 

“Yes,” interrupted the Marquis, who foresaw an 
approaching conflict and who wished to prevent it as 
far as possible, “ M. de Lembrat has arranged to spend 
the day with us. Join our party, my dear Savinien.” 

“ If he has promised, it would be very rude in me to 
wish to make him break his engagement. So I Avili 
stay, Marquis, since you have asked me.” 

As he uttered those words, he cast a significant 
glance at Koland. 

Evidently Cyrano desired to keep his enemy in 
sight. 

From that moment, not a word in the sense feared 
by the Count, was uttered. 

Savinien was, as always on similar occasions, gay 
and witty. 

At dinner, at which several friends of the family 
were present, Cyrano sat next Gilberte. 

“ When is the marriage to be ? ” he said to her, in a 
low voice, while the guests were conversing animatedly. 

“ In two weeks ! ” replied Gilberte, with the same 
precaution. 

“ Have you consented ? ” 

“ Ho ! They are forcing me.” 

“Do not be alarmed. You shall wed Manuel; I 
say so.” 

A searching glance was Gilberte’s sole reply. 

The Count, absorbed in his thoughts, had not noticed 
what was going on. 

“ Of what is that fool of a Einaldo thinking ? ” said 
he to himself. “ What are Cyrano’s plans ? He is 
sparing me, that is evident ; but will his reserve last 
long enough to permit me to escape him or to over- 
come him again ? ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 403 

The termination of the meal again brought Cyrano 
face to face with Boland. 

“ You see, Count,” sneered the poet, “ I do not wish 
to tear you away from the pleasure of this reunion. 
Nevertheless we must have a talk. At what hour 
will it be convenient for you to meet me ? ” 

Boland believed it prudent to gain time. 

“ To-night, at my house, if you like,” he replied. 

“ Yery well, to-night, although I am in a hurry.” 

“ I will expect you at eight o’clock,” said Boland, 
with a strange air. 

What sinister project was being planned in the 
Count’s brain ? 

Cyrano guessed it, possibly, for he replied : 

“I desire to spare you the trouble of some new 
plot. I will therefore await you in my humble lodg- 
ings.” 

“ As you like,” said the Count, drily. 

Those words, which presaged a battle, had been 
spoken in the Marquis’ presence. 

“ Be prompt, I advise you,” concluded Cyrano. 

“ To-morrow morning, I shall have nothing more to 
say to you.” 


404 


Captain Satan, or, 


XL. 

Eight o’clock was striking, when Koland with a 
punctuality indicative either of impatience or of fear, 
knocked at Cyrano’s door. 

The poet, who was talking with Sulpice, dismissed 
him at once and offered a seat to his visitor. 

“ Let us be brief,” said he. “ I no longer appeal 
to your honesty ; I desire simply to enlighten you as 
to your position and to save the name you bear from 
infamy. That is still possible. If you wish, it shall 
be done.” 

“ This beginning is very solemn,” Koland tried to 
sneer ; “ however, it is not sufficiently clear to pass 
without an explanation.” 

“ That is right ; the explanation you desire, is here. 
Your brother ought to be free now. . . .” 

“ Manuel, you should say,” corrected Koland. 

“ Do not interrupt me. I said your brother, and I 
repeat it. Your brother ought to be free. If he is 
still at the châtelet , it is because I wished to give you 
the moment of grace granted to the condemned, in 
order that they may confess their errors and . . . 

make reparation if need be.” 

“ What do you wish of me, sir ? or rather, what can 
you do against me ? ” 

“ I require one word to the grand provost, one word 
which shall be an avowal of your error, — you see, I do 
not say, your crime, I am sparing you all I can — and 
a clear and frank declaration of Manuel’s rights, in 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 405 

short, immediate liberty for him, safety for you. As 
for what I can do, you shall find that out shortly. 
First, reply.” 

“ I have already replied on another occasion. I do 
not recognize Manuel as my brother ; I will not sign 
the confession you ask of me.” 

“ I foresaw this resistance. Well, Boland, listen to 
me : Manuel is your brother, and you know it full 
well, for you have read the proof of his birth in Ben- 
Joël’s book.” 

The Count, with a shrug of his shoulders, said : 

“ The book does not exist.” 

“ Pardon me, it is here.” 

At the same time, Savinien showed his adversary 
the record given him by Zilla. 

After which he coolly put it away out of Boland’s 
reach. 

The latter, pale with rage, tried vainly to utter 
another protestation. 

His eyes were fixed on Cyrano with a certain stupe- 
faction. 

The poet continued, apparently ignorant of the 
young man’s agitation : 

“ I have still your father’s confession to offer you. 
It is not the fault of your agents, that it is in my 
hands, for they have done all in their power to de- 
prive me of the pleasure of bringing it to you. For- 
tunately, they did not succeed, and your faithful 
Binaldo has paid dearly for all his exploits.” 

“ Do you think Binaldo is your enemy ? ” 

“ Let us use the past tense. I think that he was. 

“ And now ? ” 


40 G 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ My God, I no longer bear him any ill-will,” said 
the poet, carelessly ; “ he is dead ! ” 

“ Dead ! ” cried Roland. 

“Having left, written on my face, this testimony 
of his devotion to yonr cause.” 

And Cyrano, touching his cheek with his finger, 
called the Count’s attention to the scratch made by 
Einaldo’s bullet. 

“ Dead ! ” repeated Lembrat, overwhelmed. 

“ Once before, I told you the facts relative to your 
birth ; do you wish me to read you the story of it ? It 
is there in its entirety in the old Count’s writing. You 
must make up your mind to it ; you are a Le Cornier 
and not a Lembrat. To-morrow the city and the 
court will learn of it, if you persist this evening in 
refusing to give me the reparation I ask of you.” 

“Speak lower,” murmured Roland, in a voice al- 
most of entreaty. “ I am at your mercy.” 

“ Then, you yield ? It is fortunate.” 

“ Let us finish ! What price do you put on your 
silence ? ” 

“ I have put a blank sheet of vellum and a new pen 
on the table. I will dictate ; do you write.” 

The Count sank into the seat prepared for him at 
the table, took the pen and waited : 

“ I acknowledge,” dictated Cyrano, “ I acknowledge 
having had in my hands all the proofs, the identity 
of my brother, at present imprisoned in the châtelet 
under the name of Manuel, and I declare all the testi- 
mony produced against him, to be lies, extorted by 
violence or by bribery.” 

“ To write this, would be to proclaim my disgrace !” 
exclaimed Roland. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 407 

“ Finish and sign it. This declaration will not go 
outside of the family. However, I shall have to show 
it to the grail?! provost ; but he is your friend ; besides, 
being ashamed of having been grossly deceived, he 
will have an interest in keeping all this secret and in 
opening the door of the châtelet to his prisoner.” 

“Take it, then. But in exchange, give me my 
father’s paper and Ben- Joel’s book.” 

“No, M. de Lembrat, that would be foolish! You 
have taught me suspicion. You might have Manuel 
assassinated on the very day on which he resumed his 
title and his fortune. I have need of a bit with which 
to curb you.” 

“ Content yourself, sir, with humiliating me ; do not 
insult me. If you retain all these securities, if you 
can publish the secret of my birth when it shall seem 
advisable to you, the declaration I have just written 
and signed becomes void. Give it back to me.” 

“Ah! I might die. The declaration is the safe- 
guard of your brother’s peace of mind. I will give 
it to him. Too many precautions cannot be taken in 
the present matter.” 

“However! . . 

“Well, would you prefer for me to give Manuel 
your father’s will ? ITas your pride decided to make 
the sacrifice ? ” 

“Enough of this. You have an answer to all. I 
submit. Do your work, sir. Free Manuel.” 

“ It is quite late. It is too late to go to the châtelet. 
But to-morrow before the cock crows, rest assured, 
your brother shall be free. Ah ! I can see the grand 
provost’s face when I get him out of his bed to tell 
him the news. Good-night, Count ; I do not wish 


408 Captain Satan, or, 

to detain you beyond the genteel limit. Curfew has 
rung.” 

Roland left the room and rushed iito the street, 
mad with rage. 

An escort of servants was awaiting him there. He 
turned toward his hôtel, planning, as he went, a thou- 
sand projects, abandoned as soon as conceived. 

Evidently, he had lost the game. Nevertheless, 
twelve hours still separated him from the moment 
when Cyrano would call upon Jean de Lamothe. In 
twelve hours much could be accomplished with an in- 
ventive mind and prompt audacity. 

“ Ah ! who will rid me of that man ? ” Roland asked 
himself, on reaching home. 

A shadow rose before him, on the threshold of the 
door. 

He recognized Ben- Joël. 

“ You ! ” he exclaimed, joyfully, as if he had found 
an answer to his question. 

“ I have been waiting for you three hours, my 
lord.” 

“ Follow me.” 

The servants retired, having conducted Count de 
Lembrat to his apartment, and the two men were 
alone. 

“ Rinaldo is dead ; Cyrano is living.” 

Those were the Count’s first words. They contained 
a reproach which Ben- Joël had no difficulty in under- 
standing. 

“ Ah ! my lord, we fought hard, I assure you ; and 
since you are aware of poor Rinaldo’s end, you must 
also know of the miraculously bold deeds we per- 
formed in order to serve you.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 409 

“What need have I to know now? All is lost 
. . . unless. . . .” 

“ Unless ? ” âsked the Bohemian. 

“Unless some one rids me of that accursed Ber- 
gerac,” concluded Boland. 

“ Some one will rid you of him, my lord.” 

“Yes, you will take precautions, as usual,” said 
the Count, disdainfully ; “ as usual you will arrive too 
late.” 

“ It seems to me that by to-morrow. . . .” 

“We have nothing to do with to-morrow, we must 
act to-night. In order that Cyrano’s death may be of 
any advantage to me, he must be killed before reach- 
ing the châtelet , where he intends going at day- 
break.” 

“Well, we might lie in ambush on the way, and 
provided that there are a number. . . .” 

“Yes, that is it. Go, collect some of your men. I 
will pay them liberally. Take knives; you can do 
nothing with your swords. The man is formidable.” 

“ When and where do you want us to await your 
orders, my lord ? ” 

“Let your men wait in the street. You can come 
here at three o’clock in the morning. I will give 
orders that my door be opened to you.” 

“ Shall you join us, my lord ? ” 

“ Yes, I desire to see you at work.” 

“Ah ! zounds ! ” cried Ben- Joël, as he withdrew, “I 
have all my defeats in mind, and I promise you I shall 
give Captain Satan’s rapier a hard task.” 


410 


Captain Satan, or, 


XLI. 

Roland’s explanation had been very brief. Ben- 
Joël did not know why all was lost, according to the 
Count’s expression. 

The latter had maintained a prudent silence on the 
subject of his father’s will, and he had forgotten or 
neglected to tell the Bohemian that the book of his 
tribe was in Cyrano’s hands. 

Notwithstanding his ignorance of the causes which 
made the elder Lembrat desire so earnestly his prin- 
cipal adversary’s immediate death, Ben- Joël had 
gladly accepted a project which would permit him to 
gratify a vengeance so long hoped for. 

He therefore, on leaving the house in rue Saint- 
Paul, hastened to the House of Cyclops, where he had 
not been since his arrival in Paris. 

Before ascending to Zilla’s room, — there was a light 
in her window, and she was no doubt awaiting news 
from Cyrano, — the Bohemian held a lengthy confer- 
ence with the knaves assembled in the parlor. 

They were all Newgate birds, ready to risk their 
lives for the slightest remuneration. 

They received Ben-Joël’s proposition with enthusi- 
asm. 

There was one man to attack. There would be ten 
against him. The risk was trifling and the reward 
promised by Ben- Joël considerable. 

The bargain made, the Bohemian bade his compan- 
ions take some rest in order to fortify themselves for 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 411 

the battle, promising to awaken them himself when it 
was time. 

When Zilla heard the knock at her door, she thought 
it was a messenger from Savinien. 

The sight of Ben- Joël caused her no pleasure. The 
bandit, without noticing the change that illness and 
the anguish of the past few days had wrought in his 
sister’s face, entered the room and, flinging himself on 
a stool, said : 

“ Here I am ! Had you begun to despair of my re- 
turn?” 

“ A great many things have occurred to make me 
forget your absence,” replied Zilla, gravely. 

“ What things?” 

“ Have you forgotten Manuel ? ” 

“ How should I have forgotten him ? It was on ac- 
count of him that I was away.” 

“ Have you seen the Count ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“What did he say to you? He wished to have 
Manuel poisoned ; you know that ? ” 

“ He did not boast of that. But there is no ques- 
tion of Manuel just now, it is of Cyrano.” 

“ What are you going to do ? ” 

“ I will tell you to-morrow.” 

“Another underhand plot between you and the 
Count ! Ben- Joël, are you not tired of your degrada- 
tion ? ” 

The Bohemian laughed cynically. 

“ Are you a prey to remorse ? ” he asked. “ Do you 
no longer love Manuel ? ” 

“ You know full well that I love him ! ” 

“ Then cease your preaching to me, and let me act. 


412 


Captain Satan, or, 

You do not yet know of what a brother who loves his 
little sister, and his little interests as well, is capable.” 

“ I know nothing, indeed.” 

“ Then listen. I deceived Cyrano and Manuel, it is 
true ; but I also deceived the Count in making him be- 
lieve that all would be ended if his brother was once 
returned to his original position. When Mlle, de 
Faventines shall have become Countess de Lembrat, 
and when Manuel, having returned to us, shall have 
been cured of his passion for her, I will interest my- 
self in his future and ours.” 

“ Wretch, do you think they would free Manuel 
thus ? ” 

“ They will free him, when the Count needs no 
longer fear his rivalry. Moreover, I know things you 
have never known. Let me go on.” 

“ Very well,” murmured Zilla, who, in spite of her- 
self, was attracted by Ben- Joel’s words. 

“ Manuel will certainly remember that he loved you 
and that you love him. Then ... I will marry 
you.” 

“ You will marry us ? ” 

“ Without any doubt. After which, I will humbly 
go in search of the magistrates, as befits a repentant 
sinner. I will say that M. de Lembrat bribed me, 
paid me for perjury ; that Manuel is indeed his 
brother. They will require a proof ; I will furnish it. 
They will punish me for my treachery. What of 
that ? It would be a short term in prison. When 
one desires the prosperity of one’s family, one is not so 
careful of one’s own. You, married to Manuel, will 
profit by my devotion. You will be Countess de 
Lembrat. I will return to you, having made every- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 413 

one happy, and will die, as late as possible, in one of 
Manuel’s castles, of Manuel’s, who might very well 
have forgotten or scorned the Bohemian, Ben- Joël, 
but who could not out of decency shut the door on 
his brother-in-law. Such is my little plan, darling. I 
hope it will meet with your satisfaction.” 

Zilla listened, with bowed head, to Ben-Joël’s expla- 
nations. 

When he finished, she looked at him and shrugging 
her shoulders, said : 

“ Your plans are absurd. They might be reasonable 
if you had any possible means of accomplishing them.” 

“ How ? The book which I have in my possession, 
which I refused the Count no less energetically than 
Cyrano, contains a testimony that no one could 
deny.” 

The soothsayer knew that by one word she would 
call forth a tempest. 

But she was ready to face it. 

She compressed her lips firmly ; she was trying to 
be calm ; she succeeded in her efforts. 

“ Ben- Joël,” said she, “ the book of which you speak 
is no longer here.” 

“ Have they taken it from you ?” roared Ben-Joël. 

“Ho ! I gave it to him ! ” 

“ You! ” 

“ I gave it to M. de Cyrano.” 

“Wretch ! ” 

And, furiously, the bandit, fist upraised, rushed 
upon Zilla. 

She did not stir, but her sparkling eyes met Ben- 
Joël’s and seemed to defy him to put his threat into 
execution. 


414 Captain Satan, or, 

The Bohemian’s hand fell ; his insolence was checked 
by that glance in which he recognized a soul more 
powerful than his, whose brilliance fascinated him. 

“ Why did you do it ? ” he muttered, between his 
teeth. 

“ Because I am weary of so much infamy, because I 
have sacrificed my love, because I wish to save 
Manuel.” 

“And you gave the weapon to my most mortal 
enemy ? ” 

“M. de Cyrano is not your enemy. If you hate 
him, it is because you feel him to be better and 
stronger than you.” 

“Ah! is that so!” cried the Bohemian. “Well, I 
will tell you that your fine captain will be a corpse to- 
morrow morning, and that Manuel may rot in the 
châtelet for all I care. I will regain possession this 
very night of the book you have stolen from me.” 

“ This very night ! ” stammered Zilla. “ This is 
then the new crime you were just now meditating ! ” 

“ Call it a crime, if you like ; I call it vengeance. 
Before day breaks all will be over.” 

“Ho,” replied Zilla, rushing toward the door, “for 
before day breaks I will have revealed all.” 

But, more rapid than the woman, Ben- Joel barred 
the way and prevented her from reaching the stair- 
case. 

“ Let me pass,” advised Zilla, arming herself with 
the stiletto which was always within her reach. 

Ben- Joël, who was invariably prudent, did not deem 
it of any use to engage in a struggle ; it was indeed 
useless, for he was master of the situation. 

As a last defiance, as a last insult, he sneered dia- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 415 

bolically in Zilla’s face, opened the door, rushed out 
and locked the gypsy in. 

Then, not satisfied with that precaution, he took out 
the key, which he put in his pocket, and dragged against 
the door, in order to barricade it strongly, two or 
three pieces of furniture in the adjoining room. 

During that operation, which lasted almost ten 
minutes, Zilla did not cease bruising her arms and 
tearing her hands on the door, in trying to open it. 

Her voice, by turns, supplicating and angry, reached 
the ears of Ben- Joël, who paid no heed to it. 

When he had finished his barricade, he descended 
softly to the lower floor, awoke his men and went out 
with them into the darkness. 

After an hour of fruitless efforts, Zilla gave up all 
hope of escaping from her improvised prison. Her 
strength was exhausted. She flung herself upon her 
bed and wept. 

During that same evening, so pregnant with events, 
Manuel unexpectedly received the grand provost’s visit. 

“Have you decided to make a confession?” the 
magistrate asked him in a severe voice. 

“ Less than ever. I will speak before the judges — 
not to confess an imaginary crime, but to prove Count 
de Lembrat’s slander.” 

“Beware, Manuel; you are taking a dangerous 
course. You will be impeached to-morrow. A frank 
avowal, true repentance can obtain indulgence for 
you. Resistance, on the other hand, will be fatal to 
you.” 

“ What have I to fear ? ” 

“ Torture ! ” said the grand provost in a solemn and 
menacing tone. 


41 G 


Captain Satan, oi 1 , 

“You can torture me until I die,” replied Manuel, 
“ without moving me, you cannot force from me one 
word contrary to the truth.” 

The grand provost threw back his head and left the 
cell, murmuring: 

“ They all have the same assurance : according to 
them, the prisons are occupied only by innocent men.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 41Y 


XLII. 

Maeotte and Sulpice were talking in Master Go- 
nin’s tavern, during the interview between Cyrano and 
Roland : for the first time since their return, the secre- 
tary and the danseuse were alone and could exchange 
their thoughts without fear of Savinien’s raillery or 
the maid’s curiosity. 

Sulpice was seated with the danseuse , at one of the 
tables in the parlor, and while Master Gonin dozed in 
one corner of the immense room, the couple enjoyed 
each other’s society. 

“ M. Castilian,” said Marotte, finally, “ to-morrow 
morning I must thank M. de Cyrano for his kindness 
and take leave of him.” 

“ To-morrow morning ? You cannot think of it ? ” 

“ On the contrary, I think of it very much. I can- 
not stay here. It was nice to return to Paris ; but, 
now, I must rejoin my own people.” 

“ Where are they ? ” asked Castilian, not without 
anxiety. 

“In Paris, probably. When I left the troupe at 
Orléans, I knew that my comrades would return here 
for the Saint-Germain fair.” 

“ Does that life still attract you, Marotte ? ” 

“ Is there any gayer ? To roam the world without 
other guide than one’s fancy, to feel oneself as free as 
air, to sleep without care of the morrow, — even if the 
morrow is not assured and one’s purse is empty, — to 
live continually on hope and to count only on the un- 
foreseen, that is all that tempts me.” 


418 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ But, miserable little ingrate,” murmured Castilian, 
seizing Marotte’s hand, and pressing it warmly, — “ I 
love you ! ” 

“Well, I love you, too,” replied the dancer, with a 
smile ; “ I hope you do not doubt it.” 

“ Why should I not doubt it, when you speak to me 
of going away ? Oh ! Marotte, you will make me die 
of jealousy.” 

“ What would you have me do ? ” 

u Remain.” 

“ No ! ” said the dancer, stamping her foot with im- 
patient mutiny. “ Can you marry me, I would like to 
know ? ” 

Castilian considered for a moment. 

He had never put the question to himself. 

Marotte resumed, without awaiting a reply, as the 
secretary seemed to hesitate : 

“ I am frank, and I know what I have the right to 
expect. Well, one does not marry a girl like me. 
You would like this marriage but I should refuse to 
marry you. You must not hamper yourself with me. 
Oh ! I understand myself well.” 

“You do not love me!” groaned Castilian, who 
sought a transition. 

“ Again ! Come, listen to this. You are no fool, 
and you will understand. 

“ There was once a little page whose name I do not 
remember, whose wit, however, was as keen as his 
heart was kind. 

“ One day, on going through the cornfields, he heard 
a crested lark, also called, I believe, a calandra singing 
near the path. 

“The bird soared above his head, sending its most 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 419 

joyous notes toward the sun, and the page longed to 
possess the pretty lark. 

“ He called it in a voice so sweet that it came and 
perched quite near him. 

“ The child approached cautiously and kneeled in 
the grass on the path. 

“ The lark, two feet away, hopped among the corn, 
enticingly and nimbly, not at all frightened by the 
child’s proximity, for birds have an instinct that does 
not deceive them, and the bird had divined that no 
one intended it any harm. 

“ The page put out his hand softly, and the calandra 
suffered him to catch it. 

“Its tiny heart beat violently beneath the child’s 
fingers, but not with fear. 

“ It knew that it could free itself. 

“ He carried it away, gave it fresh seed and pure 
water, and spent more than an hour giving a gloss to 
its plumage, as soft as silk, and covering its tiny head 
with kisses. 

“ The lark, quickly tamed, fluttered gaily about and 
treated its friend to its most charming songs. 

“ This lasted I know not how many days. The bird 
and the child seemed inseparable. 

“ And as two creatures so closely united are not slow 
to understand each other even without being able to 
speak, the calandra and the page knew how to express 
the affection they felt. 

“ A morning came when the child wept. He had 
discovered that his companion wished to leave him. 

“ As it languished and would probably have died had 
it been refused its liberty, the page opened his window 
and let it fly to the fields so full of sunlight. 


420 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ He feared he would lose it forever. 

“ It, however, was neither ungrateful, nor forgetful. 
On a fresh morning in October, as the page was walk- 
ing in the country, he heard the rustling of wings and 
joyous chirping quite near him. 

“ It was the lark which, high up in the air, had 
espied him and had come to perch on his shoulder. 

“ All day long, it followed its friend, giving him the 
caresses and the songs of former days. 

“ When day drew to a close, it flew away again. 

“ Later on, winter came ; the page was alone in his 
room, looking out at the snow that was falling like a 
shower of almond blossoms. Suddenly a bird flew 
from the neighboring field toward his window, and 
with its beak tapped on the panes. 

“ It was the lark again. 

“ The page quickly opened the window and warmed 
the traveler beneath his kisses. After that day, he 
forgot his sadness. 

“ The lark left him, but he knew full well that it 
would return. 

“ And in his continual hope, in that happiness made of 
surprises, he found a charm which entire and constant 
possession would perhaps not have afforded 1™!.’’ 

When Marotte had finished the little story, which 
she related in her melodious and caressing voice, she 
looked at Castilian. 

He had tears in his eyes. 

Marotte held out her hand to him, and the burning 
tears fell upon it. 

“ Little page,” she then smiled, “ why weep ? The 
lark will return.” 

“ Will it really return ? ” asked the young man. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 421 

“ I swear it.” 

Castilian knew, by the accent with which those 
words were spoken, that Marotte was not deceiving 
him. A smile appeared in his eyes still bright with 
tears. 

“ When will you set out ? ” he inquired. 

“ At dawn.” 

“ I will accompany you.” 

“ I wish you to. Adieu, Castilian.” 9 

“ Good-night, Marotte,” sighed the young man. 

The couple separated just as Master Gonin awoke 
to lock his door. 


422 


Captain Satan, or, 


XLIII. 

The men led by Ben- Joël arrived at Count de Lem- 
brat’s bouse. 

It was almost two hours after midnight. 

The, Bohemian left all his men in the street and 
knocked at the door of the hôtel. 

Ben- Joël in view of the bold stroke planned had 
gathered together a strange lot of bandits. 

The band consisted of two gentlemen of illustrious 
name, ruined by gaming and by dissipation, who had 
fallen to the lowest round of the social ladder, a ras- 
cal who had escaped from the royal galleys, three 
gypsies of Ben-Joël’s tribe, two knaves accustomed 
from childhood to live by adventures on the streets of 
Paris, and a shrewd old stager to whom the profes- 
sion of a thief had finally seemed preferable to the 
profession of arms. 

In all, nine rogues, fearing neither Cod nor the 
devil, and such as were required to serve Roland de 
Lembrat’s cause blindly. 

They were armed with swords and with knives ; 
two or three had pistols. 

All awaited patiently the good pleasure of him who 
had enrolled them. 

One thing only made them somewhat anxious. 
They had been promised a great deal, and as yet they 
had received nothing. 

And, in such a case, prudence bidding them do 
nothing without having received at least part of the 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 423 

wages expected, each resolved to speak his mind on 
Ben-Joël’s return. 

The Bohemian reappeared, at about three o’clock, 
accompanied by a man enveloped in a black cloak. 

The man was Boland, to whom the bullies paid no 
heed, seeing him in company with their chief. 

Ben- Joël thoroughly familiar with the customs and 
character of his men, did not give them time to ex- 
press their wishes. 

He jingled in the ears of the band a purse full of 
gold, and, stationing himself in the midst of the ad- 
venturers, he said : 

“ Boys, before pursuing the enterprise for which I 
have taken you into my service, it is well that you 
should know with whom you have to deal. He whom 
we have to fight against is a strong adversary, to be 
brief, it is Captain Satan. You know him. If any 
one of you so wishes, he is free to withdraw.” 

Murmurs were heard in the group. 

However, no one stirred. 

The bandits had considered the matter, and proba- 
bly they believed themselves sufficiently strong to ac- 
cept the offered task. 

“Yery well,” continued Ben-Joël, “no one is 
afraid. Come forward, then, one after the other ; I 
will count out to you the promised sum.” 

And, reaching into the purse, the Bohemian took 
from it the nine parts that belonged to his com- 
panions. 

He had taken his in advance, and, as was just, it 
was the lion’s share. 

Boland de Lembrat, standing in the shadow, as- 
sisted at the scene, a silent witness. 


424 Captain Satan, or, 

At a word from Ben- Joël the band began its march. 
The men walked slowly, the night being still dark 
and he whom they awaited being certain not to ap- 
pear until early dawn. Not far from port de Nesle, 
Ben- Joël bade his companions halt. It was through 
that gate that Cyrano, living in the Saint-Germain 
quarter, would necessarily have to pass. 

“ Let us wait here,” Ben-Joël advised Roland ; “ the 
thoroughfare is narrow ; then, we are on the shore of 
the Seine. We can rid ourselves of the body by 
throwing it into the water.” 

“ You are right. Place your men so that Bergerac 
may be hemmed in immediately.” 

The spot chosen for the ambuscade was the corner 
of a street. 

In an angle of the house before which Roland and 
his men were standing, a lamp was burning in a 
niche, dimly lighting up an image of the Virgin Mary. 

Opposite the house, on the shore of the Seine, a 
heap of rubbish seemed put there expressly to serve 
as shelter for the assassins. 

Ben- Joël stationed three of his men on each side of 
the road. 

Three others were sent as scouts in the direction of 
port de Nesle. 

All those preparations were noiselessly made. 

The watchword once given, Ben- Joël rejoined the 
Count. 

“ Are you quite sure that he will come by way of 
porte de Nesle ?” he asked. 

“ Undoubtedly. He lives but a short distance, and, 
unless he crosses the Seine above the Louvre, which he 
has no reason to do, there is no other way than this.” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 425 

“Are you sure that your orders have been 
thoroughly understood ? ” 

“Best assured, my lord. Captain Satan will not 
escape us. I will strike him the first blow.” 

“ It must be quickly done. If I do not find on 
Cyrano what I am looking for, we will take his lodg- 
ings by storm.” 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” exclaimed Ben- Joël, “ that would per- 
haps be imprudent.” 

“ I wish it,” said Boland, imperiously. “ If the door 
is well guarded, pardieu! we will set the house on 
fire.” 

The Bohemian did not reply. 

He leaned forward suddenly and listened. 

Boland heard nothing; Ben- Joël, whose ear was 
keener, could distinctly hear the sound, still far away, 
of a horse’s hoofs on the pavement. 

The stars were beginning to disappear, and toward 
the east the sky was growing brighter above the roofs 
and the silent city. 

It was dawn. 

One of the men whom Ben- Joël had sent out as a 
scout, came up at that moment. 

“ What is it ? ” asked Boland. 

“A man on horseback is coming this way.” 

“ Alone ? ” 

“All alone.” 

“ Did you not recognize him ? ” 

“ The daylight is too faint as yet.” 

“It is he, no doubt,” said Ben-Joël. “ I will go on 
ahead. Hold yourselves in readiness.” 

The Bohemian rushed toward porte de Nesle and 
crouched down in order to see the horseman pass. 


426 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ It is he, indeed,” he murmured. 

“ Forward ! ” he said in a low voice, to the men who 
had rejoined him. 

Then, at one bound, he rushed to the head of Cyr- 
ano’s horse and seized it by the nostrils. 

The animal started violently, while Savinien sought 
a pistol in the holster, crying : 

“ Make way, knave, or I will shoot you ! ” 

“Upon Captain Satan! With me!” cried the 
aggressor. All the bandits rushed toward the poet. 

Eoland remained in the shadow, awaiting the re- 
sult of the struggle. 

“ An ambuscade,” sneered Cyrano. “ Ah ! pardieu ! 
the Count has lost no time. Stand off, scoundrels ! ” 

He fired without other warning. 

One man fell upon the ground, his head shattered. 

“ For you ! ” cried Ben- J oël, aiming a terrible blow 
at the horseman. 

Savinien evaded it and, hemmed in on all sides he 
flung himself out of the saddle, in order to defend 
himself the better. 

He had taken his sword in his hand, and that 
sword, which he handled with a skill and vigor pro- 
verbial, had soon made a void around him. 

Two or three bullets whistled past his ears. 

“He is the devil in person!” muttered Ben- Joel, 
who had expected to see him fall. 

And flinging himself upon the poet who, having so 
many enemies to contend with, could not foresee all 
the attacks, the Bohemian drove his sword into his 
right shoulder. 

“ Touched ! ” he cried. 

“ The other hand is sound ! ” replied Cyrano. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 427 

With the rapidity of lightning he changed his sword 
into his left hand, struck Ben- Joel’s face with the 
blade, and with another blow pierced his breast. 

The Bohemian outstretched his arms and fell as if 
struck by lightning. 

“ The chief is dead,” said a voice in the crowd. 
“ Let every one shift for himself ! ” 

On seeing the assassins disband, Roland took a step 
forward, a pistol in each hand, and aimed at Cyrano. 

The two shots were fired almost at the same time. 
Savinien, attributing the new attack to the retreating 
bandits, pursued them with his sword at their backs, 
as far as porte de Hesle. 

But the assassins seemed to have wings. 

In a moment Cyrano was alone. 

“Vanished ! ” he murmured. “ They will be made 
to smart for this ! ” 

He retraced his steps and whistled to his horse, 
which, accustomed to the call, raised its head and 
neighed. 

“ He will escape me ! ” said Roland, who was hidden 
a few paces from Cyrano, to himself. 

The poet, having no longer any one to fight against, 
began to staunch the blood that was flowing freely 
from his wound, the loss of which was gradually 
weakening him. 

Roland watched him, wondering, in that supreme 
moment, what desperate means could yet be employed 
against his enemy. 

The Count had not taken his sword, thinking he 
would have no need of it ; his pistols were not loaded ; 
he was therefore unarmed at that time when he had 
need of being so strong. 


428 


Captain Satan, or, 

Whilst Cyrano slipped his handkerchief under his 
clothing in order to stop up his wound as well as pos- 
sible, Roland prudently turned and hid behind the 
rubbish flung on the shore of the Seine. 

There, an idea occurred to him. 

He seized a heavy paving stone, a very inconvenient, 
possibly, an insufficient weapon, but he had no choice, 
and watched the wounded man’s every movement. 

Chance might serve him, might furnish him with 
the opportunity of reaching and of striking Cyrano 
unawares, and Roland was not the man to neglect that 
chance. 

When Savinien felt that he was somewhat restored, 
he prepared to remount his horse. 

The reins, which he had thrown away at the time 
of the combat, were dragging on the ground. 

He stooped to pick them up and to disentangle 
them. 

With one bound, Roland was upon him, his hands 
upraised, and let fall upon his head the paving-stone 
with which he had armed himself. 

Cyrano, struck thus from the rear, fell in a heap, 
uttering a groan. 

“ Head ! he is dead ! ” murmured Roland. 

And he fell upon the body of the poet, whose head 
was already saturated with blood, and rummaged his 
pockets with a trembling hand. 

On Cyrano’s breast, he soon found what he was 
looking for : Ben- Joel’s book, Count de Lembrat’s will 
and the declaration he had himself signed the night 
before, that is to say, all the proofs, the existence of 
which he so greatly feared. 

Then he raised the inert form in his arms, dragged 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 429 

it to the hank of the Seine and pushed it into the 
river. 

After which, he fled in the direction of rue Saint- 
Paul, pressing to his breast the treasure he had just 
acquired at the price of a murder. 

Nothing else was left on the scene of the combat 
but Ben- Joel’s corpse and that of his companion. 

Cyrano’s horse, at the first groan uttered by its mas- 
ter, had fled, like mad, toward Master Gonin’s inn. 

Day was breaking. A patrol of sentries came from 
the direction of the Pont-Neuf ; these were soon fol- 
lowed by a number of citizens, who crowded around 
the bodies. 

Almost at the same instant, Castilian and Marotte 
passed porte de Nesle. Marotte, leaning on the young 
man’s arm, was talking to him in a low voice, a smile 
on her lips. 

Thus, they reached the group formed by the sol- 
diers and the curious. 

Castilian at once recognized Ben- Joel’s livid fea- 
tures. 

“ What has occurred ? ” he asked. 

“No one knows anything, except that there are two 
dead men here,” replied a citizen. 

Castilian, while the corpses were being removed, ex- 
amined the ground. 

“ Ben- Joël killed ! ” he said to Marotte, “ what does 
this mean? See the ground is trodden down as if 
several men had gone over it. My master should 
have set out this morning. Could any accident have 
happened to him ? Let us return to Gonin’s.” 

He had scarcely spoken those words, when the 
tavern-keeper in affright rushed up and said to him : 


430 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ M. Castillan, I just went into the stable, which I 
had left open, and I found M. de Bergerac’s horse 
there, sweating and bathed in blood. It certainly has 
returned all alone, for I went immediately and 
knocked at your master’s door, but no one answered.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed the young man, grief-stricken, 
“M. de Cyrano is dead ! ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 431 


XLIV. 

While Castillan, Marotte and Master Gonin racked 
their brains conjecturing as to Savinien’s fate, or, 
rather, while they were wondering in what place and 
by what means they could regain his body, Count 
Roland, safe within his hôtel, enjoyed his triumph 
without remorse. 

He read his father’s confession twice in succession 
and was convinced that it was as terrible and as over- 
whelming to him as Cyrano had assured him. 

Then he cast into his grate all those formidable 
documents of which his audacity had made him mas- 
ter, lighted the fire, and only walked away when he 
had seen the last fragment consumed. 

“How,” he said to himself, “nothing more is to be 
feared. Ho one will come to dispute my fortune with 
me ; no one can snatch Gilberte’s hand from me.” 

Several hours later, Roland de Lembrat entered the 
de Faventines mansion, as composed as if nothing had 
happened during the preceding night. 

“ Did you sleep well ? ” the Marquis inquired. 

“Very.” 

“ Did your interview with Cyrano end satisfactorily 
to you ? ” 

“ Yes, dear Marquis.” 

“ I feared there would be some angry altercation. 
Our friend, Savinien, seemed ill-natured last evening.” 

“ That was nothing. We had an understanding in 
a few w T ords. Cyrano thought he had found some 


432 


Captain Satan, or, 

signs in his protege's favor, in Périgord, whence he 
comes ; it took me but a minute to convince him of his 
error.” 

“ Will he be here to-day ? ” 

“ I do not know.” 

“ Will you see him ? ” 

“ Yery probably. Now that there is no longer any 
anger between us, I do not see why I should remain 
away from him.” 

“ Indeed, Cyrano has a bad head and a good heart. 
One cannot bear him ill-will long. We will have 
him at our wedding, my dear Poland.” 

“I hope so.” 

Marquis de Faventines was far from supposing that 
the Count at that moment was boldly dissimulating. 
Moreover, had he been suspicious, his mind was too 
simple to admit as possible so much sang-froid in a 
criminal. 

He drew Poland toward the garden, into which 
G-ilberte, accompanied by the Marchioness and Pa- 
quette, had gone. 

Almost at the same hour, Manuel, closely guarded, 
was led into the impeachment chamber, or more 
strictly speaking, into the torture chamber. 

The place was sinister. It was a lov^ vaulted room, 
on whose walls hung a complete collection of instru- 
ments of torture. 

On the floor were other apparatus equally formi- 
dable, covered in places with brownish spots caused 
by gushes of blood. 

There were to be found there two-edged swords, 
formerly used for decapitation, leaden rods, murder- 
ous pincers, small furnaces and branding-irons, jugs 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 433 

for the torture with water, wooden boots with their 
wedges, and pulleys for the strappado. 

The mere sight of that horrible museum was cal- 
culated to cause the very souls of the unfortunates 
brought into the room, to freeze, for the atmosphere 
seemed impregnated with the odor of the blood shed. 

At the end rose a sort of tribunal, dominated by an 
immense crucifix, beneath which sat a judge, and 
lower down a registrar, ready to write the confessions 
of the accused. 

Before the tribunal stood the inquisitor and his as- 
sistants, three in number on that especial day. 

When Manuel entered, he could not help starting. 
He glanced at the magistrate who was appointed to 
cross-examine him. His features were unfamiliar to 
him. 

His guards pushed him toward the tribunal and 
forced him to sit upon a small stool. 

Then, in a slow, grave voice, the judge put the cus- 
tomary questions to him, to which he replied in a firm 
tone. 

But when the examination reached the point of 
facts, Manuel no longer exhibited the same docility. 

“ Sir,” said he to the judge, “ I have already af- 
firmed my innocence before the grand provost. I 
have said that Count Roland de Lembrat should be 
convicted of slander ; I am ready to-day to prove the 
truth of those words.” 

“You are not here to accuse, but to defend your- 
self.” 

“ My defence is altogether in that accusation. Count 
de Lembrat wished to have me poisoned in my 
prison.” 


434 Captain Satan, or, 

“This man is mad,” the judge whispered in his 
registrar’s ear. 

“ By acting in that manner,” continued Manuel, “ is 
it not clearly proclaimed how greatly he feared my 
claims? A man trusting in his cause awaits the 
judges’ decision ; he does not think the hangman’s 
hand too slow nor does he think of having recourse to 
assassination.” 

“You say M. de Lembrat wished to poison you? 
Howsoever inadmissible that allegation may be, I will 
for an instant accept it as probable. By the means of 
what testimony are you able to support it ? ” 

“ The Count sent me two bottles of wine to my cell. 
The man commissioned to bring them to me told me 
to look upon them as from a person desirous of re- 
maining unknown, while doing a kindness to a poor 
prisoner. That hypocritical charity deceived me for 
an instant. Had I not been warned in time, you 
would not have had the trouble of examining me to- 
day ; I should be dead.” 

“Were you warned?” asked the judge with an air 
of incredulity. “ Who could have done it since you 
were closely guarded ? ” 

“I cannot reveal to you how I came into the 
knowledge of the project conceived nor of the name of 
my informant. I attest the fact ; that must suffice, 
especially as I can furnish proof of it.” 

“ Yery well ! Then explain to me what has become 
of those two supposedly poisoned bottles ? ” 

“ One was broken on the floor of my cell.” 

“ The other ? ” 

“ The other I have hidden near the stone where I 
was chained. Send some one to my prison, and have 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 435 

the bottle brought here; you will be speedily con- 
vinced.” 

“ If you are saying all this in order to gain time,” 
said the judge, severely, “ I warn you that your tricks 
will only result in the redoubling of the severity on 
the part of the tribunal.” 

“ Send some one to my prison,” insisted Manuel. 

The magistrate made a sign to one of his guards, 
who immediately disappeared. 

The examination was suspended until his return. 
He returned in a few minutes, bringing carefully with 
him the bottle covered with dust.” 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” cried the judge, “ it was true, then ? ” 

And he took the bottle which he stood in front of 
him, having looked at it with an appearance of mis- 
trust. 

“ Sir,” Manuel hastened to say, “ have a few drops 
of the contents of this bottle poured into a glass. The 
poison mixed with the wine is so strong, that a small 
quantity is sufficient to kill the strongest man.” 

The accused’s request was complied with. 

“Now,” he continued, “test it.” 

The judge and the registrar stared at each other in 
a perplexed manner, which called a bitter smile to 
Manuel’s lips, notwithstanding the gravity of the situ- 
ation. 

“ You must be joking,” said the judge, finally. “ If 
a few drops of this beverage is indeed sufficient to 
cause death, how do you want me to experiment? 
You do not hope to see me try an experiment of that 
kind on one of these men ? ” 

“ God forbid. The test should be made on animals 
and not on men.” 


436 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ There are cats at the jailer’s,” timidly ventured 
the registrar, greatly interested by Manuel’s words 
and without considering the quasi-comical turn his 
proposition would give to the scene. 

“ A cat ! ” grumbled the judge. “ The majesty of 
the Law. ... Well ... I consent.” 

The obliging guard, who, an instant before, had 
fetched the bottle designated by Manuel, took it upon 
himself to furnish the animal. 

The cat, destined to that experience in anima vili 
was a pretty tom-cat with a white and silky coat. 

He made his appearance, cuddled in the guard’s 
arms, with his eyes blissfully closed. 

Evidently the poor beast was confiding. 

“ Come ! ” said the judge. 

“ Simply dip the feather of a pen in the beverage,” 
explained Manuel. 

With those words, the accused rose. 

The judge passed him the pen dipped for an instant 
in the glass, and Manuel offered it, thus prepared, to 
the cat. 

The pretty tom put out his pink tongue and licked 
the feather. 

The wine that colored it came from Spanish soil, 
and its sweetness evidently tickled the animal’s palate, 
for it returned three times to the treat offered it. 

Manuel took the pen away perfectly dry. Hot one 
tiny drop of the liquid had been lost. 

“ It is strange ! ” he murmured, seeing that the cat 
had resumed its sleeping posture without showing the 
slightest sign of uneasiness. 

The judge and the registrar looked at each other 
again. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 437 

“ Nothing ! ” said the judge. 

“ Absolutely nothing ! ” repeated the registrar. 

The experimenter took the glass, poured into it two 
fingers of wine, again dipped the pen in the beverage 
and then passed it rapidly over his lips. 

He waited to feel the burning sensation, which, 
once before, had helped him to recognize the presence 
of the poison. 

The liquor was as sweet as honey. Manuel turned 
pale. 

Then, yielding to a desperate resolution, he raised 
the glass to his lips and emptied it at one draught. 

“ The miserable fellow is poisoning himself ! ” ex- 
claimed the magistrate. 

Notwithstanding, Manuel stood there erect. 

With a smile full of bitterness, he placed the glass 
on the table and said : 

“ No, my lord, fear nothing. Heaven is against me. 
That glass contained only wine.” 

“ Then you have deceived us ? ” thundered the 
magistrate, indignantly. “ You have but sported with 
our kindness ? ” 

“ Heaven is against me,” repeated Manuel, with re- 
signed melancholy. “ The proof I believed I had, has 
escaped me. One only of the two bottles was poi- 
soned, and that one I broke in a fit of anger.” 

I will not be duped by this story. The ridiculous 
farce you have just played, the object of which I can- 
not divine, will but aggravate your position.” 

Evidently the judge was exceedingly angry. 

He made a sign to his registrar, who prepared to 
write, and, addressing Manuel again, he said : 

“ The deeds with which you are charged are true j 


438 


Captain Satan, or, 

yon wished to contest them, to produce an argument 
against your accuser. All that can lead to nothing, 
you see. Confess : I ask you to do so for the last time.” 

“ No ! ” cried Manuel, energetically. 

The judge gave an order. 

The inquisitor and his assistants approached the 
young man. Instinctively he tried to resist them. 

After a brief struggle, the torturers’ rough hands 
reduced him to impotence. 

He was stretched upon the floor, while the assist- 
ants bound his feet and his hands with stout ropes. 

Those ropes were then fastened to others hanging 
on the walls of the room, and Manuel felt himself 
lifted into space, while at the same time, by a horrible 
motion of traction his body was racked in such a 
manner that his limbs felt strained and his bones 
cracked. 

Beneath the body brought into an almost horizontal 
position, was slipped a wooden trestle which raised 
the torso and increased the violence of the tension. 

These preparations were those of the water torture. 

“ First jugful as ordinarily,” said the judge’s voice. 

The inquisitor put an iron spatula between Manuel’s 
set teeth, opened them forcibly and thrust the pipe of 
a funnel down his throat. 

Slight, convulsive starts alone betrayed Manuel’s 
intentions of resistance. 

Slowly, the assistants poured into the tunnel the 
contents of a jug full of water. 

Manuel made no sign. 

Twice, thrice, they renewed the torture, but he did 
not seem to lose courage. 

With closed eyes, he apparently awaited death. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 430 

The water torture consisted of two ordeals, the 
ordinary and the extraordinary. 

It required more than human strength to resist the 
second of those ordeals. 

The water, imbibed in a considerable quantity was 
not slow in producing the first stages of asphyxia- 
tion. 

The confession then escaped the sufferer’s lips — 
whether he was innocent or guilty. 

Manuel, with his temperament of iron, with his in- 
flexible will, resisted the first part of his torture. 

His temples throbbed violently ; the blood, driven 
suddenly to his brain, dyed his face purple, he felt a 
severe pain in his breast, but he still remained there 
with closed eyes, and, when the torturers freed his 
lips for an instant, when the judge said to him : “ Con- 
fess,” he replied in a voice still firm in spite of the 
torture undergone : “ Ho ! ” 

The torture extraordinary commenced. 

Manuel opened his eyes. 

At the sight of that terrible, fixed glance, the judge 
thought the victim on the point of supplication. 

He put his question again. 

“ Ho ! ” replied Manuel, whose voice was becoming 
stifled. 

“ Second jugful of the extraordinary,” commanded 
the judge. 

The torturers obeyed. 

That was the limit of endurance. 

Manuel closed his eyes and lost consciousness. 

“ He has fainted ! ” said one of the assistants. 

“Unfasten him,” replied the judge. “I have never 
seen such obduracy.” 


440 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ If he revives,” muttered one of the guards at the 
same time, “ he must indeed have nine lives.” 

Manuel, still unconscious, was borne, not to his cell, 
but into a room adjoining the torture-chamber, where 
he was given over to the care of the prison physician. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 441 


XLY. 

Zilla, a prisoner in her own room, had, you will 
remember, given up hope of regaining her liberty. 

It was only in the morning that the old portress, at- 
tracted by more screams, went up to set her at liberty. 

The gypsy immediately rushed downstairs, intend- 
ing to repair to Cyrano’s lodgings. 

A man stopped her just as she was about to cross 
the threshold. 

He was one of the men who had taken part in the 
expedition of that night. 

“ Zilla,” asked the man, “ where are you going ? ” 

“What matters it to you?” asked the gypsy, 
brusquely. And she attempted to pass out. 

“ If you are going in search of your brother,” per- 
sisted the man, “ I can save you useless trouble.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“Ben- Joël ... is dead,” replied the man, 
simply, for he knew nothing of the art of considera- 
tion. 

“ Dead ! ” 

She stood motionless for an instant, thoughtful 
rather than sad. 

Recent events had broken the frail tie of affection 
which bound her to Ben- Joël. 

“ How did it happen ? ” she asked, after a pause. 

“Your brother died bravely in a combat to which 
he was provoked,” explained the adventurer. 

“You should have said in an ambush which he had 


442 


Captain Satan, or, 

prepared himself, and of which he was the first victim 
perhaps. Who killed him ? ” 

“ The other.” 

“ What other ? ” 

“ He whom they were awaiting. I do not know his 
name.” 

“ And what of him ? ” 

“ He is dead as well. I was left behind, and, hidden 
in an angle of the house, I could witness the termina- 
tion of the action. He who killed Ben- J oël was felled 
by a blow from a stone thrown by a personage whom 
we joined on rue Saint-Paul, and whom your brother 
seemed to obey.” 

“ The Count ! ” murmured Zilla. “ Ah ! he has at- 
tained his object ! He has killed his adversary and 
fate has freed him of his accomplice ! ” 

Again, she bowed her head and seemed oblivious to 
her surroundings. The bandit and his companions, 
interested by that conversation, stared at her curiously. 

“ Manuel ! ” said Zilla to herself soon, “ it is Manuel 
who must be thought of now.” 

With a commanding gesture, she waved aside the 
men who were around her and left the House of 
Cyclops. 

Undecided at first as to the direction she should 
take, she finally determined to knock once again at 
the grand provost’s door. 

M. Jean de Lamothe, who was carefully reading the 
official report of the meeting during which Manuel 
had been tortured, and who was surprised, like the 
judge, at the obduracy or the energy of the accused, 
M. Jean de Lamothe, we say, consented to receive 
Zilla immediately. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 443 

“ Sir provost,” she began, “ I have come to make an 
appeal to your justice.” 

“ What do you ask again ? ” 

“ I ask to be heard ; I have come to proclaim 
Manuel’s innocence.” 

“You have already given me a foretaste of your 
confessions. Notwithstanding the mistrust which 
your character and the rôle you have played in all 
this should inspire in me, the case has entered such an 
obscure phase, that I must neglect nothing in order to 
succeed in discovering the exact truth. Speak, there- 
fore, I am listening.” 

“Sir provost,” resumed the gypsy, “Manuel is 
Count Boland’s brother.” 

M. de Lamothe fixed on her who was speaking to 
him a surprised and almost irritated glance. 

She, disregarding the effect produced by her first 
words, continued her confession. 

She revealed the Count’s manoeuvres and disclosed 
to the provost some of the evil means employed to 
overcome her scruples. 

But Jean de Lamothe rebelled against the convic- 
tion which she wished him to accept. 

The confession he had expected was not the confes- 
sion that fell from Zilla’s lips. 

He flung back his head, murmuring : 

“A lie!” 

She hoped to strike a final blow, when she asked : 

“Would you believe me, were I to tell you that 
Count de Lembrat caused the assassination of M. de 
Cyrano last night ; indeed, that he assassinated him 
himself ? ” 

Jean de Lamothe rose, crying : 


444 Captain Satan, or, 

“ Wretched woman ! Do you know what you are 
saying ? ” 

At the same time he rang. 

A bailiff appeared. 

“ Go to M. de Cyrano’s, and ask him to come to see 
me at once,” he commanded. 

The bailiff withdrew, and without paying any 
further attention to Zilla, the grand provost resumed 
the examination of his papers. 

A half-hour passed thus, at the end of which the 
provost’s messenger returned, saying : 

“ M. de Cyrano went out last night and has not re- 
turned to his apartments.” 

Zilla then spoke to M. Jean de Lamothe again, in- 
forming him of Ben- Joel’s death. 

“Even if Ben- Joël is dead, that does not prove the 
Count guilty,” he objected. “ I will see M. de Lem- 
brat.” 

“ Sir,” ventured Zilla, “ will you allow me to visit 
Manuel ? He has need more than ever of consolation 
and of hope.” 

“ To-day, I can grant you that favor. Take this.” 

And Jean de Lamothe handed the delighted Zilla 
an order, entitling her to admission to the châtelet. 

Manuel had barely regained consciousness, when 
the gypsy was ushered into his presence. 

On recognizing her, he heaped no reproaches upon 
her. 

She spent an hour at his bedside, humiliated, weep- 
ing; she talked to him a long time of Gilberte, to 
whom she had sacrificed her love, and on leaving him, 
said : 

“ Hope ! Live ! I will save you ! ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 445 

Meanwhile, M. Jean de Lamothe left his study, re- 
paired to rue Saint-Paul, and was announced to the 
Count, who had just returned from the de Faventines 
mansion. 

Without any preamble, he repeated to him Zilla’s 
words. 

Without any preamble also, he said to him : 

“ It is you whom they accuse.” 

Roland smiled scornfully. 

“ I expect anything from those people,” said he. “ I 
must, however, call your attention, my dear provost, 
to the fact that an old feud existed between this Ben- 
Joël and Cyrano. He, probably, avenged himself, and 
his sister does not mind putting the responsibility on me. 
Besides, is the news true ? Has Cyrano really been 
assassinated ? ” 

“ He has not returned to his inn.” 

“ That is no reason. With the adventurous disposi- 
tion which you know him to have, Cyrano may have 
gone away without informing any one. We will see 
him again in two or three days, safe and sound, I do 
not doubt. If he were dead, as they claim he is, they 
would at least have found his body.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said the provost, convinced still more 
by Roland’s calm tone and disinterested manner than 
by his last arguments. 

“ And Manuel ? ” the Count asked, quickly, anxious 
to change the subject. 

“ He was put to the torture this morning.” 

“ And confessed ? ” 

“ ISTothing!” 

" He has some character,” remarked Lembrat, tran- 
quilly, reassured as to the result of the affair. 


446 


Captain Satan, or, 

In spite of Roland’s assurance and the great faith 
he had in him, the provost went away very thought- 
ful. His mind struggled in the midst of the diverse 
thoughts which encompassed it, like a fly caught in a 
spider’s web. 

As for Zilla, on issuing from the châtelet , she wiped 
her tearful eyes and repaired to Cyrano’s lodgings. 

She wished to obtain the book, the possession of 
which would be henceforth indispensable to her. 

On the threshold of the inn, she met Marotte whom 
she had not expected to meet there, and whom she 
scarcely recognized, not having seen her for a long 
time. 

After the first explanations, and on learning by 
what right the dancer was at the inn, Zilla told the 
object of her visit. 

Marotte looked at her with a strange air, then, mak- 
ing no reply, she took her hand and drew her into the 
house. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 447 


XLYI. 

Several days had passed, during which Count Ro- 
land succeeded in regaining his assurance. 

No news had been received of Cyrano. Roland, in 
order to sustain his rôle to the very end, sent to Master 
Gonin’s, and Master Gonin replied that he knew nothing. 

Had Count Roland’s messenger been shrewder, he 
would perhaps have noticed the singular tone of that 
reply ; but he did not, and his master felt convinced 
that his enemy’s body was buried forever in the 
waters of the Seine. 

It was a complete triumph. 

Circumstances had been very favorable to the 
Count. He was alone, rid of his enemy as well as his 
accomplices. 

Rinaldo and Ben-Joël dead, no one could rise against 
him, except Zilla, whose testimony he no longer feared 
since he had burned the last proof of Manuel’s inno- 
cence. 

From that time, he thought only of his marriage, 
the celebration of which he wished to hasten, in spite 
of the resistance he foresaw with Gilberte. 

He repaired daily to Hôtel de Faventines, and talked 
for a long time with the Marquis. 

The latter, after each of those interviews, had a talk 
with his daughter, and the nearer the time fixed ap- 
proached, the more did Gilberte affirm the resolution 
which she had frankly expressed to her father. 

The Marquis, interested in the union, turned a deaf 
ear and continued to encourage the Count. 


m 


Captain Satan, or, 

Finally, however, he became anxious. 

Gilberte, having won her mother over to her cause, 
Mme. de Faventines had awakened in her husband’s 
mind certain thoughts against which the Count had to 
struggle, as we shall see. 

One morning, Eoland arrived at the Marquis’ house. 

He had furnished himself with an irresistible 
weapon, with a plan of the contract, the clauses of 
which were calculated to gratify his future father-in- 
law’s most ambitious desires. 

At Eoland’s request, M. de Faventines examined the 
document. 

“ Your generosity is truly royal,” said he, when he 
had finished reading it. 

“Well!” the Count hastened to say, “if all seems 
to be properly arranged, there is nothing left to be 
done but to give this deed its legal form. In three 
days, I can become Mile. Gilberte’s husband.” 

“ In three days ! ” reflected the Marquis. “ Is that 
not hurrying matters somewhat ? I do not think that 
my daughter would be sufficiently prepared for the 
marriage.” 

“ My God,” replied the Count, lightly, “ all young 
girls are so jealous of their liberty ; they like to have 
us long for them; a slight resistance adds a new 
charm to their possession; they know it very well, 
and are not annoyed when one says yes, for them.” 

“ That is possible ; but Gilberte’s condition has 
caused me to reflect. She is somewhat visionary, a 
trifle over-excitable ; several times she has made her 
mother fear the effect of a fatal decision.” 

Eoland smiled, as he said : 

“ That is not very flattering to my vanity. How- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac 449 

ever, fear nothing. Give me Mlle. Gilberte; I will 
surround her with so much care, with so much respect, 
and with so much love, that she will speedily abandon 
her dismal plans and will no longer think of dying, — 
if ever she thought of it.” 

“ Gilberte is energetic and resolute.” 

“ Ah ! dear Marquis, you are a father, and you 
tremble before childish mutiny ! A young girl threat- 
ens to kill herself because her relatives desire to marry 
her suitably, it is too puerile, indeed, for one to heed 
it. Answer me, therefore, without scruples; I will 
answer for the future.” 

The Marquis held out his hand to Eoland. 

“ I have faith in you,” said he. “ It shall be as you 
wish.” 

Gilberte, informed almost immediately of the de- 
cision made by her father, was not able to utter one 
word in reply. 

She was weary of the struggle and did not care to 
take the trouble to resist. 

She retired to her room and suffered Paquette to 
make the preparations for her marriage. 

To be frank, Gilberte no longer lived the life of 
common mortals. Her mind, strangely overexcited 
by the imminence of the event, transported her into a 
higher sphere. She had forgotten Cyrano’s consoling 
words and the poet’s inexplicable absence did not 
trouble her. 

Her mind was full of memories of Manuel : it was 
he whom she saw in the mist of her dreams ; it was 
for him she prepared with resignation, almost with 
joy, to sacrifice her life. 

Thus, the day set for the marriage arrived. 


450 


Captain Satan, or, 


XLVII. 

That morning, Boland issued from his house, dressed 
for the ceremony, and repaired to the Louvre, where 
he was in the habit of going daily to greet the young 
King. 

He had many friends among the courtiers, whom he 
had invited to his wedding. 

When he had, according to custom, paid his re- 
spects, all accompanied him to Hôtel de Fa ven tines. 

It was a joyous company, chatting and laughing in 
the faces of the citizens assembled to see the Count 
and his companions, resplendent in silk, velvet and 
brocades, pass by, when Boland’s attention was at- 
tracted by a litter whose bearers turned in the direc- 
tion of the Louvre. 

Behind that litter walked Zilla, Castilian and Ma- 
rotte, accompanied by a third personage, very tall and 
attired in a short, black cassock, whom Eoland did not 
know. 

That personage was Jacques Longuépée. Eoland 
started uneasily. But his self-possession speedily re- 
turned. 

“ He is dead ! ” he said to himself. 

And, with the firm resolution to forget the rencontre , 
he reached Hôtel de Faventines. 

The large drawing-room was filled with flowers and 
entirely hung with new and costly tapestry. 

The Marquis was receiving the guests, whose num- 
bers the spacious room could scarcely accommodate. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 451 

Shortly after Boland’s arrival, the entire assemblage 
moved toward him. 

Suddenly the footman’s resonant voice announced 
M. Jean de Lamothe, grand provost of Paris. 

“Ah! my dear friend,” said the Marquis to him, 
“ how late you are ! ” 

“ Duty before pleasure, Marquis. I had some busi- 
ness matters to attend to this morning.” 

“ What ! Not one day of relaxation ? ” 

“ One among others,” continued the provost, “ which 
is beginning to interest me greatly.” 

“ What is it about ? ” 

“ The disappearance of your friend, Cyrano.” 

“ Indeed, I invited him to my daughter’s wedding, 
and I received the answer that they did not know 
what had become of him. Can an accident have hap- 
pened to him ? ” 

“ I know nothing as yet. Is he dead ? Or is he 
engaged in some mad adventure? It is a grave 
question. At any rate, he is or was rattle-brained, 
and if I am interested in him, on account of a report 
known to the Count, it is because he has made 
enough stir in the world for one to be curious as 
to why he no longer makes it. Seriously, I am 
beginning to think he has been assassinated, as they 
tell me.” 

“ Poor Savinien ! ” sighed the Marquis, with sincere 
emotion. 

“ It would be a great pity,” Boland contented him- 
self with saying. 

“ Let us drop the mournful subject,” said the provost. 
“ At what time are you to be married, my fine lover?” 

“ At noon ! ” 


m 


Captain Satan, or, 

“ In that case, we shall soon have the pleasure of 
greeting Mile. Gilberte.” 

“ She is with her mother,” interpolated the Marquis. 
“ You will see her in a few moments.” 

In the distance, the bells of Nôtre Dame commenced 
to ring, announcing the hour of mass. 

At that signal, the guests approached the Marquis, 
and, shortly afterward, a murmur was heard in the 
throng. 

Gilberte had just appeared at the door of the salon , 
in her white wedding gown. Paquette and the Mar- 
chioness followed her. 




The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 453 


XLYIII. 

She was whiter than the veil which fell over her 
brow. 

However she smiled, a smile to order, the last con- 
cession made to her father’s will. 

On her virginal gown, Gilberte wore, a strange 
caprice which no one, however, remarked, the neck- 
lace of amber beads which Zilla had given her, and 
from time to time her fingers pressed the poisoned 
bead, by means of which she was soon about to seek 
safety and death. 

She desired to delay the execution of her plan until 
the last moment ; her conscience bade her live as long 
as chance or rather Providence might possibly inter- 
fere with her fate. 

The Marquis advanced toward her and opening his 
arms, murmured : 

“ My daughter ! My child ! ” 

And that father, who, although taking an odious 
step in giving Gilberte’s hand to Poland, shed a 
tear of emotion at the moment of that separation 
which his child’s wishes were preparing to render 
eternal. 

Gilberte looked at the Marquis sadly. 

“Poor father,” she thought, “he does not know 
what he is doing. May God forgive him ! ” 

The bells had stopped ringing. 

“ They are about to start,” said Pâquette to Gil- 
berte in a low voice. 


454 Captain Satan, or, 

“Yes,” whispered the maiden, trembling: “all is 
over.” 

A footman appeared in the salon at that moment, 
and, bowing before the Marquis, announced that the 
carriages were ready. 

“ Come, sirs,” said the father. 

He tried to take Gilberte’s hand. 

She reeled, and, sinking into a chair, murmured : 

“ Ah ! I cannot ! ” 

Paquette, at a word from Gilberte, had left the 
salon , and returned carrying a glass of water on a 
silver tray. 

“Compose yourself,” said Roland to his fiancee / 
“ compose yourself. I will await your orders.” 

“You will not wait long, sir.” 

She took the glass, put her lips to it, and holding it 
carefully with one hand, she dropped the poisoned 
bead which she had just torn from her necklace, into 
the water. 

As Zilla had said, the bead dissolved almost imme- 
diately, without interfering with the clearness of the 
water. 

Gilberte’s lips moved slightly. Ho doubt she was 
praying. 

Then, she slowly raised her glass. 

As she was about to drink, having cast one last 
glance of regret or of hope around her, the door of the 
salon opened suddenly, and a footman broke the gen- 
eral silence with these words : 

“ Count Ludovic de Lembrat ! M. Savinien de 
Cyrano de Bergerac ! ” 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 455 


XLIX. 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Gilberte, enraptured, “ God has 
wrought a miracle ; I am saved ! ” 

And placing the glass on a console, she hastened to 
meet Cyrano and Manuel. 

Savinien had appeared at the door of the salon and 
was advancing, supported by Manuel and Castilian. 
Behind, came Zilla, Marotte and Jacques Longuépée. 

The poet was very pale, blood-stained bandages 
covered his brow, and notwithstanding the help given 
him, he walked with great difficulty. 

Boland, overcome by the unexpected apparition, did 
not stir, did not utter an exclamation. 

The first word was spoken by the grand provost : 

“ What does this mean ? ” he cried with a stupefac- 
tion almost naïve. “ Then you are not dead, M. de 
Cyrano ? ” 

“ I believe not,” replied the poet. “ In any case, it 
is not Count de Lembrat’s fault, if I am alive, for it is 
he who tried to cause my death.” 

“ Sir, what slander ! ” interrupted Boland, whose 
boldness returned in the face of danger. 

Cyrano stopped him, with an imperious gesture. 

“ Let me explain, sir,” he continued, “ you may de- 
fend yourself afterward ... if you can.” 

“ By virtue of what right have you come to annoy 
me ? ” 

“ By virtue of the right of justice. Ah ! you 
thought me dead, and you felt yourself free! You 


456 


Captain Satan, or, 

believed that the Seine would not give up my body ! 
You had my people questioned, and they told you they 
did not know what had become of me : ‘ It is well,’ 

you said to yourself in your blindness or in your 
folly, 4 my man is no longer to be feared.’ But, while 
you were congratulating yourself on your easy victory, 
my friends were watching, and their eyes, keener than 
those of sentinels, found me in the shallow water into 
which you pushed me too hastily. Thanks to this 
brave fellow, thanks to this courageous child,” here 
Cyrano paused to shake hands with Castilian and 
Marotte, “ I was taken from out the mire in which I 
should have died. In order to reach and to strike you 
at the very time of your triumph, I hid myself until 
now, and allowed the report of my disappearance to 
be believed. It is thus that not long since you tried 
to ruin Manuel.” 

Cyrano, exhausted, sat down. ITe had wished to 
tell all, and the effort had revived his pain. 

“ This scene is scandalous,” exclaimed Boland. 
“ Marquis, you are in your own house, put a stop to 
it.” 

“ Softly, Count,” then interposed Jean de Lamothe, 
who had listened most attentively to Savinien’s words, 
“ the friend must give place here to the judge. I must 
investigate all this.” 

“Well, provost,” cried Cyrano, “those are wise 
words ! They have reconciled me with you.” 

He extended his hand to his former opponent, then, 
pointing to Boland, he said : 

“ This man has abused your confidence. He caused 
his brother’s imprisonment, in order to steal from 
him his fortune and his name. The Bohemian, Man- 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 457 

uel, no longer exists, provost, it is Yiscount Ludovic 
whom I present to you. It is in the name of the 
Queen-Regent herself that I call upon you to recog- 
nize him.” 

“ And I,” cried Roland, exasperated, “ beseech you 
in the name of my rights to cause the arrest of these 
two impostors: the one, who styles himself my 
brother, the other, who upholds him as such.” 

The Marquis, having up to that time taken no in- 
terest in the discussion, ventured to say : 

“ But, Count, if they have proofs ? . . .” 

“ They have none.” 

“ I have no longer those which you stole from me,” 
interrupted Cyrano ; “ I have neither your father’s 
terrible confession, Ben-Joël’s book, nor the avowal 
signed by your hand; but I still have your valet, 
Rinaldo’s, deposition, written in the presence of my 
friend, Jacques Longuépée, here present, and fortu- 
nately taken care of by him ; I have also Zilla’s testi- 
mony. 

“ I have come from the Louvre ; Queen Anne has 
heard my story ; she shares my conviction. Through 
her, I have obtained Manuel’s liberty, through her 
also you shall be punished. Read this order, prov- 
ost.” 

“All is against me,” exclaimed Roland. “I am 
lost ! ” 

M. J ean de Lamothe took and read the order in- 
vested with the royal signature. 

He approached Roland, who had sunk into the chair 
in which Gilberte had been seated a moment before, 
and touching his shoulder with his finger, said : 

“ I regret what is about to take place, Count, but, 


458 Captain Satan, or, 

according to the terms of this order, I am forced to 
arrest you. Marquis, have the doors of the house 
closed, and send for the police officers and the guards.” 

“ To arrest me ! ” cried Roland. 

“ Accused of murder and of perjury,” concluded the 
provost. “ Give up your sword, M. de Lembrat.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Roland, in his impotent rage. 

And with his fist, he beat his brow, as if he would 
turn against himself the fury which stirred within 
him. The blood rushed to his temples, and his whole 
body twitched convulsively. His eyes grew dull, cold 
perspiration stood upon his forehead, his throat con- 
tracted. He was suffocating. 

Then, mechanically, in order to escape the violent 
physical paroxysm, with the spontaneity of a man 
finding at hand the succor which can snatch him 
from death, he seized the glass of water left by Gil- 
berte and emptied it at one draught. 

It was done so rapidly that the girl, petrified with 
horror, had not even time to make a gesture to pre- 
vent the Count’s action. 

“ Ah ! ” she cried, “ he has poisoned himself ! ” 

“ What did you say ? ” asked Manuel, who was near 
her. 

“Yes,” she said, in a low and hurried tone, “I pre- 
pared the poison ... for myself. I did not 
know. . . . Oh ! look at the Count ! ” 

Roland stood up as erect as if moved by a powerful 
lever. 

The glass had rolled upon the carpet. With eyes 
immoderately open and fixed, the Count remained 
standing for an instant, uttered a sort of rattling 
sound and collapsed. 


The Adventures of Cyrano de Bergerac. 459 

Zilla rushed forward, and approaching Gilberte, 
asked : 

“ The bead ? ” 

“ Yes ! ” replied the maiden in consternation. 

“ My brother ! My brother ! ” cried Manuel, who, 
with all the other witnesses of the scene, hastened to 
where Boland lay. 

“Count de Lembrat no longer hears you,” said 
Zilla, gravely. 


* 


460 


Captain Satan, or, 


L. 

Boland was, indeed, dead ; his death was caused 
by the poison which Gilberte had poured out for her- 
self and which Fate had, so to speak, thrust into the 
Count’s hand. 

Cyrano looked for a long time at the corpse, the 
distorted face of which still breathed of anger and 
menace. 

There will be no blemish on the Lembrat escutch- 
eon,” he then murmured. 

When Gilberte, having recovered from the effect of 
the terrible excitement, was again in the presence of 
Zilla and Manuel, she experienced a vague uneasiness. 

The gypsy divined it, and taking the girl’s hand, 
she said simply : 

“ Adieu ! ” 

“ Zilla ! ” cried Manuel, “ have you nothing more to 
say to us ? Would you leave us thus ? ” 

She cast upon him one long glance, into which she 
seemed to have put her entire soul, and as a token of 
good-luck, as a regret as well, no doubt, there fell 
from her lips the highest word : 

“ Love ye ! ” 

Jacques Longuépée performed the marriage cere- 
mony for Gilberte and Manuel. 


THE END. 


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village.” — Boston Journal. 

‘‘Weird and interesting to the point of being 
absorbing. The only way to get the story is to 
read it ” — St. Louis Star. 

‘‘Seventeenth century romance steeped in the 
traditions of the Church and of the times. * — Detroit 
Journal. 


NEW YORK 

R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 


i2M0, Cloth, $1.2$ 


JASPER FAIRFAX 

BY 

MARGRET HOLMES 

Author of “ Chamber Over the Gate,” Etc., Etc. 


“ Will be read with interest.” — Chicago Record , 

" One of those typical American novels in con- 
ception and development.” — Boston Courier . 

“ Of interest from first to last.” — Public Opinion . 

“ A good, strong, skillfully told American novel.” 
— Chicago News. 

“A story that will create a sensation.” — Boston 
Globe . 

“ One of the most original, able and remarkable 
of recent novels.” — Minneapolis Tribune . 

“The book is thrilling and dramatic.” — New 
Orleans Item . 

“ Will not lack for admirers.” — Boston Times . 

“Very attractive story.” — Plain Dealer . 

“ One of the best Southern novels we have ever 
read.” — Atlanta Star. 


NEW YORK 

R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 

p and ii East i6th Street 


i2mo , cloth , 


An Unofficial Patriot 

By HELEN H. GARDENER 

“ It is a side of the slavery question of which North- 
ern people knew nothing. ’ '—John A. Cockerill , N. Y. 
Advertiser. 

“ Strong and picturesque sketches of camp and field 
in the days of the Civil War.” — San Francisco Chron. 
icle. 

‘‘The book is being dramatized by Mr. James A. 
Herne, the well-known actor, author and manager.” — 
N. V. Press. 

‘‘It tells a splendid story.”— Journal, Columbus , 0 

“ Will be sure to attract the attention it deserves.” 
— Philadelphia Press. 

“ In its scope and power it is unrivalled among war 
stories.” — Ideas , Boston , Mass. 

‘‘In many ways the most remarkable historic^ 
novel of the Civil War.” — Home Journal .Boston, Mass. 

“ The interview with Lincoln is one ot the finest bits 
of dialogue in a modern book.” — Chicago Herald. 

“ Will probably be the most popular and saleable 
novel since Robert Elsmere.” — Republican. 

“ One of the most instructive and fascinating writers 
of our time.” — Courier -Journal. Louisville. 

“Is calculated to command as wide attention as 
Judge Tourgée’s “Fool’s Errand.” — N. Y. Evening 
Telegram. 

“ Has enriched American literature,” — Item, Phila- 
delphia. 

‘ ‘Remarkably true to history. ’ Inter-Ocean , Chicago 

“ Entitled to a place with standard histories of the 
War.” — Atlanta Journal. 


NEW YORK: R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 



























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